


Here's To Us-ABANDONED

by HatterRed



Category: Glee, Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:44:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 78,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HatterRed/pseuds/HatterRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things in Beacon Hills aren't normal. Werewolves and hunters are only just the beginning. Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray know this-and they know that if their secrets are found out, it could be the end. Good thing Stiles can keep a secret...AU Crossover</p>
<p> </p>
<p>THIS FIC HAS BEEN ABANDONED AND IS BEING REWRITTEN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

_Hey! So this is a new fic inspired by an RP, written by myself (Jules, aka HatterRed), Kayla and Maggie. It is a Glee/Teen Wolf Crossover, and AU. By this, Rachel and Quinn, as well as any other Glee characters guest appearing, have grown up in Beacon Hills. There will be romances, but I think I'll keep that to myself for now. ;)_

_Disclaimer: Kayla, Maggie and I do not own Teen Wolf, Glee or any characters, places, etc., from the shows. This is merely for your and our own entertainment._

_And now, on to the story…_

* * *

 

Rachel Berry knew she was not well-liked. The number of true friends in her life was very small. Her best friend, in fact, spent years torturing her before glee club and slushies brought them together.

Yes, Rachel Berry knew she wasn't liked. Which is why marrying Finn had seemed like such a fantastic idea. She had let herself believe that if she was his wife he'd _have_ to like her, or something equally ridiculous.

And Rachel knew marrying Finn Hudson was ridiculous. So leaving because her best friend was in a car accident? Didn't really bother her all that much.

After all, she'd rather lose Finn than Quinn.

As Rachel walked aimlessly through Beacon Hills, still wearing her wedding dress, he mind wandered over the past few hours, starting at the courthouse, her wedding.

_Rachel jumped when her phone went off, hoping it was Quinn. The blonde was very late to Rachel's wedding and she was starting to worry._

_But it wasn't Quinn's number lighting up her screen. She wasn't sure whose number it as, actually._

_Opening the message, Rachel steeled herself for some kind of harassment. Instead, she read a text that had her heart plummeting._

"Quinns been in an accident.-Stiles"

_Rachel barely acknowledged the others in the room, instead making a beeline for the door. She had to get to the hospital._

After that, everything was blurry—like she was walking through jell-o.

Quinn was in a coma, and then she was gone.

Not dead, just missing. She ran from the hospital, and the doctor's were all very confused.

Rachel wasn't.

Once she heard of Quinn's escape, she had left the hospital and wandered, eventually finding herself at Finn's door. What happened after that was loud and messy and honestly, Rachel's not quite sure what exactly happened except that she left Finn's house single.

Even she was surprised to find that she didn't care.

And now she's roaming the streets of Beacon Hills, looking for Quinn.

The girl would be hiding, she knew. Waking up from a coma, after being hit side-long by a truck and walking away would bring a lot of questions—questions both Rachel and Quinn would prefer left unasked.

Because the only reason Quinn survived that crash?

Quinn Fabray is a werewolf.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N Kayla here, I roleplay Scott and Stiles on the Roleplay Jules was talking about so mine will mostly be from their point of view. Sorry this is so short I really run out of muses a lot, but soemtimes short and sweet is all you need right?**

* * *

Stiles sat in the living room with the TV on but not really watching it. Quinn was in the shower cleaning the dried blood off her bruises. He caught her sneaking out of the hospital merely a day after getting into the worst accident he has ever seen. When he saw that all her wounds were nearly healed he put together that she was werewolf.

He kind of wondered if he should tell Rachel Berry that Quinn was okay and at his house. Quinn came out dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt he let her borrow; they looked so big on her.

"Maybe I can sneak into your house and get you some clothes," Stiles said as she sat next to him.

"I'm fine for now," Quinn said smiling at Stiles. Stiles felt butterflies in his stomach at her smile. As he turned his attention to the TV his stomach gave a loud rumble, he realize he really hadn't eaten anything all day.

"Hey are you hungry? I can make a pretty good grilled cheese sandwich," Stiles asked Quinn. Quinn nodded as he got up and got the stuff out and began making the sandwich. His attempt to imitate Emeril ended in an epic fail where he dropped the sandwich on the stove. "Oops," he said as Quinn giggled at his attempts. When he finished the sandwiches they sat down on the couch and ate them while watching TV. Stiles sat back watching TV as he and Quinn talked about random things, like how Stiles became the one that helps all the werewolves in town out and just the past few years at school. After a while Stiles led Quinn to his bedroom and he let her sleep on his bed while he took the couch. At 3 AM his Dad came in and woke him up.

"Stiles what the hell are you doing sleeping on the couch?" the Sheriff asked.

"I just never made it back to my bed," Stiles said half asleep, he hoped his Dad wouldn't wake Quinn up.

"Why don't you go back there and I'll see you in the morning," the Sheriff said.

"Did you find Quinn?" Stiles asked even though he knew they couldn't have found her.

"No, we still have a team out there, I just came home to get a few hours of sleep before I go back out to search," the sheriff said. Stiles nodded stifling a yawn as he shuffled back to his bedroom, he grabbed an extra pillow and blanket from his closet, shut his bedroom door and laid down on his floor falling back asleep instantly.


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: Jules again! Maggie is going through some personal stuff, so she might not write for a while.**

**So…we now know the Quinn is a werewolf. But how does Rachel know? Will Rachel find Quinn? And what will happen between Quinn and Stiles?**

**Two of these three questions will be answered below…**

**And, sadly, I still do not own anything. Otherwise, Kayla would have Dylan, and Mark and Tyler would both be standing on my doorstep right now…which they're not. I checked. Twice.**

**And, go. Seriously. Go. Read. Stop reading this and read the story! Go.**

* * *

After the fourth call went straight to voicemail, Rachel was officially frustrated. A day later and still nothing from Quinn. She had gone home last night, hoping Quinn would call or show up, but nothing.

She threw her phone on her bed and stretched, trying to think, to see if she forgot a hideout Quinn would use. She stopped mid-stretch, looking back at her discarded phone. Stiles. He had texted her about Quinn in the first place…maybe…

She grabbed the phone again, scrolling to his text and calling the number.

* * *

Quinn sat up sleepily, body sore and aching. She looked around the unfamiliar room, registering in the back of her mind that a phone had woken her, but not hers. She looked at the floor to the side of the bed, where the ringing was coming from, and saw Stiles Stilinski grumbling a _hello_ into his phone from where he lay on the floor.

And it all came back. Rachel's wedding, the truck, the hospital. Grilled cheese and Stiles. She relaxed a little, watching Stiles try to wake up enough to properly communicate with whoever was on the phone.

And she promptly tensed again when he said _Rachel._ She quietly listened, feeling guilty that her best friend was probably worried sick and blaming herself.

Stiles seemed to be looking at her for confirmation, and Quinn figured it was to tell Rachel that she was here, so she nodded, biting her lip and running fingers through her blonde hair.

"Yeah, Rachel, she's here. I saw her leave the hospital and figured she could use a place to lay low."

Quinn couldn't hear what Rachel said next, but she knew by Stiles expression that it surprised him.

"How did you know…you know what, nevermind. Um, yeah, she's fine here though." He was nodding, which Quinn found adorable since Rachel couldn't exactly _see_ him nodding.

"Yeah. I'll tell her. Yup. Bye." And with that he hung up, scratching the back of his neck and looking up at her.

"Rachel says you can go to her house whenever you're ready, her dads aren't home and she knows so you don't have to hide from her. And shes, um, a little…intense. Is she always like that?"

Quinn nodded absently, then stilled as his words registered in her brain. She knows? Rachel knows? She wondered how. How her Broadway-in-training best friend could possibly know she's a werewolf. It wasn't like she went around biting people-there were no obvious signs. And, of course, Rachel shouldn't know anything about werewolves at all—she was just a normal girl who sings and dances, has dreams of being a star.

She shouldn't know that Quinn is a werewolf. That she comes from a line of werewolves, but didn't find out until her aunt told her after she triggered the curse. That to trigger that curse, Quinn killed someone. Accidentally, but curses don't really care about the details.

Curses don't care that she was at a party and upset and trying to go home. Curses don't care that she ran into a very drunk girl at the top of the stairs. Curses don't care that girl was too drunk and that Quinn tried to grab her arm and save her, stop her from falling down the stairs. Stop her from dying on impact.

Quinn shook off the memories, focusing on Stiles, who was rummaging through his drawers.

"I think all of my clothes are going to be too big," he said over his shoulder. "Like what you're wearing now."

She smiled softly. "It's okay. I should probably go see Rachel anyway. She's…well, I'm surprised she hasn't beaten down your door by now to make sure I'm okay." Even she could hear the fondness in her voice for the shorter girl, and found herself wondering why she wasn't angrier. The text she was responding to was Rachel's, on her way to Rachel's insane wedding to Finn. And Rachel kept telling her to hurry. She knew, logically, she should be furious, blaming the brunette, but she wasn't. She knew she didn't have to answer. She could have pulled over, she could have called. She could have worked harder to convince Rachel that marrying Finn Hudson was not her destiny. But instead she sent a text. And the only one to blame there is herself.

Now if only convincing Rachel of that would be so easy.

Accepting Stiles offer of a ride, she sat in the jeep, teeth worrying her lip. They pulled up to Rachel's house and Quinn pushed open the door, but turned back before she got out.

"Thanks," she murmured, kissing Stiles on the cheek before running up to Rachel's porch and letting herself in. She really needed to talk to Rachel about keeping her door locked.

* * *

Rachel's head shot up as she heard her front door open. She stood up off the couch, and crept to the doorway between the entry-way and the living room. She relaxed when she saw it was Quinn and grabbed the taller girl up in a hug, telling her variations of "I'm so sorry," and "I'm glad you're okay."

Rachel almost cried when Quinn responded that she doesn't blame her. She did cry when Quinn repeated it.

And then came the hard part. The two girls sat in the entry-way of Rachel's house, both apologizing and taking blame, talking in circles until finally Quinn stopped. She looked at Rachel, almost in fear.

"How did you know? You told Stiles you knew. I just…how?"

"How did I know what? That you're a werewolf," Rachel answered, grabbing Quinn's hand. The girl looked like she was ready to bolt, and Rachel wondered to herself why it seemed as though Quinn couldn't catch a break. Pregnancy, being kicked out, her parent's divorce, giving away Beth, becoming a werewolf and now this.

"Yeah. That I'm a werewolf." She choked a little on the last word, still not used to saying it. It's only been two months, after all.

Rachel smiled sadly. "Please, Quinn. I was there. I saw her fall down the stairs. And I saw you change for the first time. And the second time. I've been watching out for you, making sure you didn't accidentally hurt someone while the wolf was in control."

Quinn stared at her in shock, trying to remember. She didn't think Rachel had been at that party, because, let's face it, Rachel doesn't get invited to or go to parties. And when she turned…when she turned she had gone deep into the woods—no one was around.

"But…what?"

Rachel sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I'm a hunter."

Quinn gave her a blank expression, so she explained further. "Of supernatural things. Ghosts, vampires, monsters. The occasional demon. I recognized the signs in you before you did because by now I'm like a walking Occult Wikipedia. And I knew I could help you, I was just afraid to tell you because the people who know about me always end up getting hurt. They want to help, they want to hunt, and then they get killed. And I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't be the reason you die." She paused, looking away. "Which I almost was anyway, just via texting instead of supernatural means."

"You hunt things? Do you hunt werewolves?" Rachel could tell Quinn was afraid of her answer, that she thought Rachel would kill her.

"Only if they kill people. Which you don't. And you won't." She tugged on the girl's hand, making her look at her. "I won't let you. I'll keep you safe."

Quinn nodded, eyes watering at the faith Rachel had in her. "How did you become a hunter?"

Rachel ran her fingers through her hair, trying to find the words. "Do you remember a girl named Sally Robertson? In eighth grade?" At Quinn's nod, she continued. "Well she was witch. And she…you know how all those kids kept…dying, is the kind word for it. There were three of them?"

Another nod. "Sally did that. Using hex bags. And I was next on the list. I think it was because I got the lead in the eighth grade play, or because I won the talent show…I don't know. I just know she was mad.

"I had found one of the hex bags in my locker. I didn't know what it was, but I started feeling like something was trying to claw its way out of me. It was…excruciating." She looked away. "She showed up…I guess she wanted to see her casting at work. But these two guys burst in and." She looked at Quinn, deciding to sugarcoat it, but if Quinn noticed her hesitation she didn't show it. "They stopped her, and stopped the spell on me, so I lived to sing another day. I asked them to teach me, but they said no.

"So I snuck into their car before they left town. "She grinned, remembering the look on Dean's face when he found her. It was almost identical to the look on Quinn's face now. "My dads were out of town and it was almost summer break, so I figured I could pass it off as starting summer vacation early. I refused to go home until they taught me how to hunt.

"They tried though. Until the night they were attacked by a ghost, and he was flinging them all over, not realized I was in the backseat, so I grabbed Dean's gun and shot it. It disappeared, which was awesome, and they started shouting instructions at me—to pour salt and gas on the ghost's bones, then burn them. One I saved their asses, they couldn't really say no anymore.

"I stayed with them all summer, and they taught me. One of their friends convinced my dads I was in a summer camp for Broadway-to-be's. And I learned to hunt. Came back right before school started up again. Had some new skills and new scars, and I started keeping this town safe. "

She shrugged, not realizing Quinn was crying until the girl threw her arms around her and Rachel felt tears soaking her shirt.

"You went through all of that alone," Quinn gasped out, hugging Rachel tighter. And the two sat on the floor, holding each other and wondering how their lives got to be so strange.


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N: Kayla again. Like Jules said we do not own any of the character or shows featured in this fanfic. I figured we could have a bit of Scott and Stiles scene here. Sorry my adds are so short.**

* * *

 

Scott noticed Stiles was fidgeting more than he usually does. He kept checking his phone every five seconds.

"Stiles are you okay?" Scott asked.

"I'm fine, I promise I'm fine," Stiles said checking his phone for the hundredth time in that hour as if his constant checking would make it ring.

"Are you expecting a call or something?" Scott asked.

"No, I'm not," Stiles said like he was cross.

"Dude, did I do something to upset you?" Scott asked. He looked back over the past few days and couldn't think of anything he could have done to upset Stiles.

"No, it's just, you promise you won't freak out?" Stiles asked.

"What is it?" Scott asked nervously.

"I know where Quinn Fabray is," Stiles said. Scott froze.

"Stiles, you're letting you Dad search all over town for her and my mom is feeling guilty as crap because Quinn went missing on her watch," Scott said.

"Scott, she was supposed to be in a coma but I caught her sneaking out of the hospital," Stiles said.

"What?" Scott asked.

"She's a werewolf, Scott, think of how my dad and your mom would react to seeing how fast she healed," Stiles said, there was an awkward silence that was broken up by Stiles' phone ringing. He looked to see Rachel calling him.

"Rachel, hey what's up?" Stiles asked. Scott wanted to eavesdrop on the other end of the conversation but he decided to give Stiles and Rachel privacy while he processed what he just found out.

"That sounds like a logical explanation, I'll come right over and we can call my Dad, uh, is it okay if I bring Scott? He's kind of listening in right now and I owe him a couple of explanations in which I need help with," Stiles said. What else could Stiles possibly have to explain to him? Quinn was a werewolf and apparently this Rachel girl must know and they were planning away to tell the Sheriff. Unless, Rachel knew more than Stiles let him know.

Stiles hung up with Rachel. "Want to go over to Rachel's with me?"

"Rachel? As in Rachel Berry from the Glee club, the one who Jackson threw a slushy in her face last week? You're hanging out with her now?" Scott asked.

"Dude, she's not as bad as you think, she's awesome, just because she has big dreams of being on broadway doesn't make her a weirdo like you," Stiles said. Scott couldn't think of a comeback for Stiles so he just followed him out to his jeep and Stiles drove over to the Berry household.


	5. Chapter Four

**It's Maggie! It's been a while since I've even talked to you guys, and I just want to say I miss you like hell! But yes, I'm Maggie and I play Quinn (when I don't have life getting in my way) in the RP. For this I've just got her in a sleep/mid dream sequence for when she's at Rachels that night. Enjoy!**

* * *

Quinn couldn't sleep that night.

After everything, she just wanted to be home. Or at least normal. She wanted her life back, her _old_ life. Was that too much to ask for? She wanted to be human, to go to school and not worry about wolfing out. Or worse. But that would've been lucky.

She should've just been a shut in her entire life. Then she wouldn't have killed that girl, making her into this... into this _thing._ For the two months that she had been with this curse, she had already hated it. For two months, she's already had to put up with trying to kill people. She had always done it alone, just to make sure she wouldn't hurt anyone.

Her nightmares kept coming back. She kept seeing wolves, tearing people apart limb from limb. She saw Rachel, and she called out to her.

_"Rachel?" She called, walking closer to the brunette._

_Rachel stood there, afraid. The look said it all._

_Quinn looked back at the girl, confused. "Rachel, it's me, it's Quinn, your best friend..."_

_Rachel took two steps back, before covering her mouth, screaming._

_Quinn looked behind her, seeing a larger wolf. It edged her on, threatening to kill her. Quinn growled and tried attacking the wolf, but as it snapped it's teeth, she turned around, before eyeing Rachel. She took two steps forward before lunging at the girl, bearing her teeth before she bit into the girl's face._

Quinn woke up, looking around frantically. Rachel was still sleeping, and Quinn took a deep breath. She swallowed hard, before exhaling. She was okay. Everything would be okay. They just needed to figure out what they had to tell her mom. Not to mention the sherriff. . .

Quinn had seen the sherriff's son around in school, Stiles, and she thought he was kind of dorky at first, but it began to sink in that he might save her one day. He would be there if her secret got out. Not to mention that he was there for her when she came out of the hospital. She ran to him.

She took a deep breath again before she laid back down, bringing the comforter up close to her face as she closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep again. She needed to figure something out, but going to bed and facing the day was her current struggle. A daily one, at that. She just wanted to be happy again. She had talked to Rachel briefly before calling it a night, but she did feel somewhat guilty for breaking her and Finn up. At the same time, she was rather happy. She trusted her instinct, like Rachel always did.

She closed her eyes, letting her mind wander uncontrollably, before finally falling into what she assumed was a sleep. At least, the closest she'd get to it.


	6. Chapter Five

**AN: Annnd…Jules. Like you didn't know. =)**

**So obviously, they have a story to tell the Sheriff, Scott's mom and Quinn's mom. But what is it? Hmm…and will I tell you in this chapter?**

**By the way, did anyone predict that Rachel was a hunter? I mean, seriously? Little bitty Rachel, taking on supernatural beings? I, personally, love it. Which is good, since I wrote it…. =P**

**I know Rachel on the show is a vegan, but I just can't see hunter Rachel being one, so….**

**Anyway…Kayla, Maggie and I still don't own anything, which is sad. I'm sure the female population would appreciate the shows more if we did…use your imagination on that one. ;)**

**And, go. =)**

* * *

Rachel woke up first and, deciding to let Quinn get all the sleep she could, crept downstairs to make some tea and breakfast. Sticking some toast in the toaster, and cracking a few eggs for scrambling purposes. Humming quietly under her breath, she tried to focus on making breakfast, tried to send the thoughts of the past few days-no, the past few years, out of her mind.

It didn't work. She could remember everything and everything ran through her mind as she stirred the eggs on the stove. She had been so young when she started hunting, and she had never thought it would reach her personal life. She never thought her friends would be involved in the supernatural. She never thought her best friend would accidentally trigger a werewolf gene.

She shut the stove off and scooped the eggs onto two plates, pouring some orange juice and grabbing butter and jam for the toast. She sat in one chair and waited, wondering how her life got to this point. She could have chosen not to follow the boys, not to be trained by them. But, she considered, it wouldn't have helped Quinn. And if she didn't have to knowledge and skills she had now, would she have been able to help? She didn't think so.

After Quinn had shown up last night, the two had talked and cried and told each other everything they'd been keeping secret. Quinn's wolfiness, Rachel's hunting, hell, they even talked about Puck and Finn and _Beth._ They talked about Shelby and about Rachel's break-up with Finn. Quinn told Rachel how the change felt, and Rachel told her about her adventures—and mis-adventures—in hunting. They let it all out and honestly, Rachel is glad they did. It felt so good to come clean to her best friend, and even better being there for Quinn through all the wolf stuff.

The smell of food must've woken the blonde, like she figured it would, because not long after, Quinn came ambling down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She sat in the chair next to Rachel and stared blankly at her food, hair disheveled and hiding her face. Rachel reached over and squeezed the other girl's hand, quickly launching into a monologue about an idea for glee club, in an effort to make Quinn feel at ease, feel like everything is _normal,_ and _fine¸_ and that it was all going to be okay.

 _Because,_ Rachel silently assured herself, _it was._

Smiling when she saw Quinn start to eat, Rachel picked up her own fork and began eating as well, and they bounced ideas off each other of what story to tell the sheriff.

* * *

Rachel sat on her couch after hanging up with Stiles, staring at the blank TV. Quinn was upstairs showering and changing into some of Rachel's clothes—they knew the sheriff would definitely recognize his son's clothes on the runaway car crash victim he's been searching everywhere for.

They had come up with a plausible story during breakfast, and after they cleaned up, Rachel had sent Quinn upstairs to shower while she called Stiles to let him know.

This brought her to her current predicament. Stiles was coming over, which was good, to help them break the news to the sheriff. And he was bringing Scott. The werewolf. Who was going to find out she was hunter. She sighed as the doorbell rang, wondering how on earth she went from no one knowing to her secret, to three.

She stood up slowly, making her way to the door. Opening it, she was unsurprised to see Stiles and Scott. Ushering them in, she arched at brow at Scotts, who was unconsciously _smelling_ her. She knew what she'd smell like to him. On top of her scent there would be wood and metal and gunpowder—or so said a vampire she had hunted a few years back.

She smiled at Stiles. "Quinn's upstairs. We figured if she showered and put on my clothes, it would make it look like she's been here the whole time."

Stiles nodded and followed her back into the living room, immediately plopping down onto her couch, while Scott stood in the doorway between the entry and the living room, looking awkward and uncomfortable.

"You can come in, Scott, "she said over her shoulder as she sat next to Stiles. "I don't bite. And I won't let you bite, either, so you're safe on both fronts." She grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV, turning on the DVD player as well. Quinn's favorite movie was already queued up and ready to go, as soon as the girl in question came back downstairs.

Which, judging by the noises from upstairs, wasn't going to be long.

She stretched out a little before curling her legs under her and telling Scott to "sit the hell down already." Hearing Quinn coming down the stairs, she called out to her, not wanting her to be surprised by the boys' presence.

Stiles and Scott are here, Quinn. We're in the living room."

Quinn came in a few seconds later, hair wet, and looking very tall in Rachel's sweats, which ran short on the taller girl.

"Hi guys," she said quietly, standing in front of the couch. Rachel reached out and pulled the girl down to sit onto of them, half on her and half on Stiles. She hit play on the DVD, and the girls outlined their plan to Stiles and Scott, asking them if their dad and mom, respectively, would believe it.


	7. Chapter Six

**AN: Kayla here. I wish I owed the Teen Wolf at least ha ha..**

* * *

Scott stood uncomfortably near the couch, he didn't know if Rachel minded him sitting next to her or not given that she probably knows what he was by now. He was taken off guard when Stiles grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him on the couch next to Rachel as he sat next to Quinn. He and Quinn looked like they were close to cuddling even though they weren't alone. Scott found it hard to not smile at that. If Stiles is finally getting a girl maybe he wouldn't be so obsessed with how attractive to gay guys he was.

"Uh, yeah, if not I can confuse my mom really easily, I did it once when she asked me if I was on drugs," Scott said answering Rachel's question.

"Of course my Dad will most likely believe me, I don't think he thinks I'll lie about something like this," Stiles said.

"Plus if all four of us are saying the same thing he'd have to believe us," Scott said. He was fascinated by Quinn a bit, she was the first female wolf he ever met. He didn't talk much, he felt out of place there. Stiles was a regular chatterbox with these two. Scott realized Stiles didn't really have friend outside of him and possibly Derek. Speaking of the alpha, Scott wondered what he was up to. Scott haven't been going out to his house lately, he's been hanging out with Allison and her family, they have been giving him really good anger management techniques so he hasn't had the need to go to Derek. Maybe he'd go check on the alpha after he and Stiles leaves Rachel's house for the day.

Stiles watched how uncomfortable Scott was feeling. It was odd seeing Scott at ill ease. Usually he was happy or angry, much like a dog, or wolf.

"So, should I call my Dad?" Stiles asked. Rachel and Quinn nodded and Scott just kind of continued sitting there taking it all in. Stiles dialed the Sheriff's number.

"Hi Dad, uh, I found Quinn Fabray," he said nervously. Stiles' dad burst out in rapid fire questions that were loud which probably everyone could hear.

"Dad, chill, let me explain, I was hanging out with Scott when Rachel called us to come over, we are working on a project together and she was going to help me with audition for Glee club when out of blue Quinn came bounding into the room, I was shocked to see her up and about but apparently the crash wasn't as bad as we thought it was…what..oh we're at the Berry house hold…yes the one you got called to last week because Rachel was practicing singing at 6 am, okay we'll be here, bye," Stiles said.

"He's coming over, he seems a little ticked but I think he bought it," Stiles said. He was praying that his Dad bought their story, because with the sheriff backing them up there's more of a chance that Scott's mom would buy it. They were sitting on the couch watching a movie when Stiles' dad showed up. He knocked on the door politely and Rachel got up and led him to the living. The spun their tale and Stiles watch Quinn explain nervously to his dad about what went on. When she got hung up on why she ran from the hospital a bit he held her hand in his behind their backs so the Sheriff wouldn't see.

"Okay, I'll let it slide this time, you should call your mom and let her know you are all right, and probably should go back to the hospital so they can check you over so we know you are one hundred percent okay," the Sheriff said. Quinn nodded nervously and assured the Sheriff that she would.

"Alright, you kids have a good time, Stiles I'll see you at home later. Scott it's nice to see you," the Sheriff said and then he left. They breathed a sigh of relief that the sheriff bought everything.


	8. Chapter Seven

**AN: Jules again. So very sorry about the wait, things got a little hectic. Or, you know, a lot hectic. But I'm ready to give you a little more and remember, reviews are** _**always** _ **welcome.**

**So, go.**

* * *

Rachel shook her head, smiling to herself. She was very glad that the sheriff believed them-and telling him Quinn was afraid of hospitals, combined with Quinn's excellent acting skills, really helped sell their story.

She looked over at Scott. Onto the next issue-the wolf was practically oozing tension, which could get very bad, very fast.

"So, Scott. What do you want to know?"

He looked up at her, slightly alarmed, and Rachel found herself suppressing a giggle at his expression.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, you're obviously uncomfortable, and probably wondering why I know about werewolves and if and why I know that you're a wolf, and so I'd like to set your mind at ease." She smiled warmly at him.

"I think," he said slowly, "I mostly just want to know how you know."

She nodded and proceeded to tell him about being a hunter, skipping over how she came to be a hunter, and emphasizing that she only kills killers. Scott nodded along the whole time, and by the end of it seemed relaxed enough to stop worrying and enjoy the movie.

When Quinn's favorite ended, Rachel directed the boys to her extensive collection, telling them to pick whatever before turning to face Quinn once the boys were engrossed and out of earshot.

"So," she grinned conspiratorially, "Stiles?"

Quinn blushed, glancing at the boy in question from the corner of her eye. "He's sweet. And he makes an awesome grilled cheese."

"And?" Rachel grinned even wider as Quinn's blush spread, happy her friend was making a connection.

"And he knows about me so there aren't any secrets." She shook her head, laughing. "I don't know. There might be something. I hope there will be something."

Rachel hugged her impulsively, whispering in her ear.

_You deserve something._

She pulled back as Stiles and Scott came back over, _Fright Night_ in Scott's hand.

"Enough werewolves," he said, "let's watch nerds and David Tennant kick vampire ass."

So they did. Followed by two more movies, with phones calls to parents, card games, a Rachel Berry* Rules version of monopoly and delivered Chinese and pizza in between.

Immediately following _Fright Night,_ they finally convinced Quinn to call her mom. Between Quinn's assurances and Rachel's innate gift of pleasing adults, Mrs. Fabray believed the teen's story and even encouraged Quinn to stay with Rachel until the following morning, to help her "feel normal after such a traumatic experience." Then Stiles decided they needed pizza-and a lot of them in order to feed two werewolves- and Scott and Rachel began a _Go Fish_ tournament that lasted a good forty minutes and with rules so complicated and warped that Quinn and Stiles weren't quite sure what was happening or who won.

Then came _X-Men First Class_ , which, the boys were amused to discover, Rachel both loved and despised. It launched a discussion comparing the comics to the movies and analyzing everywhere the movies went wrong. Quinn found herself mediating between Stiles and Rachel, who preferred the comics, and Scott, who preferred the movies. In the end, she declared it a stand-off and ordered the boys to call their parents and tell them that they were staying for dinner. And Rachel brought out monopoly, which none of them will ever talk about again except to say that Rachel's rules? Are awesome.

It was while they were munching on Chinese and watching _Serenity_ -Quinn had declared all superhero movies off-limits-that it occurred to Rachel that Scott, and Stiles to a lesser extent, had an alpha. And if she knew her werewolf facts-which she did, thank you very much-he was probably looking for them. After all, they'd been locked up in her living room all day and neither had mentioned anything about checking in. No contact tends to make an alpha tense, and she wondered if she was going to have a situation on her hands.

Sitting up from her position on the floor, she turned to the boys, biting her lip.

"Guys, is your alpha going to be looking for you? I mean, you've been MIA all day."

Stiles shrugged and turned back to the movie, but Scott looked hesitant.

"I don't think so." He shook his head. "He's never checked in before."

Rachel nodded slowly as Scott turned back to the TV. This didn't go with what she knew about packs, but maybe they were different?

* * *

They weren't different.

They were almost to the end of _Serenity_ was the hairs on the back of Rachel's next stood up, Scott and Quinn both tilted their heads toward the front door, and Rachel gave into the urge to grab the gun she hidden under the couch earlier.

She rolled off her chair and had the gun in her hands as the door was kicked open. Before he/she/it made it to the entry, Rachel had Quinn, Scott and Stiles behind her with the couch between them, gun pointed at approximate head height.

And then he stepped into view.

Rachel was glad training kept her gun up, because she was lost in the sight of this man. Tall and lean, all taunt muscles and hard lines, he stood at about Noah's height, which, Rachel decided, was perfect height for her. From his boots to his dark messy hair, he practically screamed sex, and the leather jacket didn't help the situation.

He cocked his head at her, dark eyes flashing blue as he registered the gun in her hands. The move put her back on target and she gave him a sarcastic rise of her brow.

"Do you always just barge into girls' homes uninvited or am I just special?" She looked at him and decided he was probably either alpha or enemy, but either way she wasn't letting him near her friends until she was sure he was a "friend."

"Derek? What the hell?" Scott sounded very confused but neither Rachel nor this _Derek_ -and oh, did that name suit him - turned towards the wolf.

"You know him Scott?" Rachel watching Derek with wary eyes as she asked, suppressing the shiver that slid up her spine as he looked her up and down.

"Yeah," Scott answered from behind her. "He's ….Derek."

"Well that was not informative at all." She turned to Derek. "Who are you? Besides 'Derek'?"

"I'm alpha," he answered, surly and gruff. A growl, really, Rachel found herself thinking. He was growling. "Who the hell are you?"

"He's safe?" she called over her shoulder to Scott. At his hesitant 'yes,' she lowered the gun and gave Derek one of her famous show-smiles.

"I'm Rachel. Now fix my door." And she turned her back on him and bounced over to the couch, setting the gun on the table and tossing her legs over Quinn, who had sat down with her.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Kayla here again. unforunately we don't own anything in here. and unforunately the Roleplay died but we still have ideas ha ha. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Stiles groaned. "Oh great, the sour wolf is here," he muttered. Scott cracked up at him but seeing Derek's expression he quickly stopped laughing.

"What the hell, you go missing all day and don't even tell me where? And in the home of a hunter?" Derek said.

"What's it to you, Derek?" Scott asked.

"Uh, you are a part of my pack, I liked to know if I'm not going to hear from you all day," he said.

"Aw, the sour wolf does have a heart, he really does care for us, Scott," Stiles said with a grin.

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek snapped.

"Somebody's grumpy," Stiles said in a singsong voice.

"Stiles, don't make things worse for yourself, please," Scott said.

"Fine," Stiles said mumbling "Sour wolves" under his breath.

"So what the hell is going on here?" Derek asked. So they launched into an explanation, the truth this time.

"Why couldn't you tell me this before I was left to worry about it?" Derek asked.

"Because it came up last minute," Stiles said. Then he looked at the time. "We probably should go, Dad will probably be ready to come after me with lights and sirens blaring if I'm not home soon and Derek killed our good vibes."

"Fine, but please keep me informed about things in the future," Derek said, he stood there awkward as Scott and Stiles said by to Quinn and Rachel and just walked out the door leaving him there with the two girls. As soon as they were on the road heading to Scott's house Scott started the questions.

"So you and Quinn, huh?" he said.

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked.

"You can't pretend there's not something there. You both were practically cuddling during the movies," Scott said smiling.

"I like her, I really do," Stiles said blushing.

"You should totally ask her out," Scott said.

"I- I don't know," Stiles said.

"What don't you know, just ask her out, that's how I got Allison to go with me, ask her to the dance that's coming up," Scott said. He could only see happiness when it came to Stiles with Quinn. He wanted his best friend to be happy. An unhappy Stiles was the worst thing in the world.

Stiles gave Scott a weird look. "A school dance as the first date, isn't that lame?" He wasn't sure about the dance thing, but he was definitely planning on waiting until the whole drama with escaping the hospital died down to ask Quinn out on a date at least. The thought of Quinn made him smile, her beautiful blonde hair, her smile that brightened the room she was in, her gorgeous green eyes, and the way she made Stiles feel. Not even Lydia made him feel as happy as Quinn did.

Lydia was actually a bitch to Stiles, she never gave him the time of day and at the dance she only danced with him for a few seconds before running off to find Jackson. Grant it, Peter Hale did attack Lydia on the lacrosse field, but Stiles still couldn't help but feel hurt that he was nice to Lydia and she didn't even give him the time of day most of the time.


	10. Chapter Nine

**AN: Jules. =) Please excuse any awkward non-Derek-ness, because I'm having some difficulty finding his voice. Luckily, this is fanfiction, so Kayla and I can twist the lovely characters that sadly** _**do not belong to us (disclaimer!)** _ **and do with them what we will. =)**

**I know this chapter sucks, and I'm very sorry. I was forcing it a little, but after making you all wait so long for a new chapter, I wanted to give you this one asap… =/ Forgive me?**

**Also, reviews are awesome, and out first ever reviewer is even more so! Findmywaybacktoyou, thanks for the review! I'm so glad you like my Rachel, and I'm glad you liked my door line…notice he didn't fix it last chapter. Will he in this one? I guess you'll have to read and find out. ;)**

**So, you, know, go.**

* * *

Quinn watched the strange wolf warily. She wished Stiles and Scott had stayed, if only because they were far more familiar with this Derek person than herself or Rachel.

He was the second wolf she had met today, and that was more than she'd met ever. Scott was far less intimidating, however, and Quinn wasn't sure she wanted the older wolf here for very much longer. Something about him made Quinn want to _obey_ , some basic instinct—but Quinn's not exactly the obeying type.

The instinct was off-putting but, it seemed, a werewolf only thing—Rachel's only reaction to him was…Quinn blushed.

Interesting.

She looked between the two of them before excusing herself and rushing up the stairs to Rachel's oh-so-cheery room.

A hunter and a werewolf together would be very interesting indeed.

* * *

Derek stood awkwardly in this _Rachel's_ front hall, still feeling the adrenaline and urge to fight, to kill, to protect his pack.

Not, he acknowledged to himself, that Scott or Stiles were in danger, apparently, unless you count being holed up with two girls all day dangerous.

 _And,_ Derek thought, looking the small girl in front him over, _maybe it is._

Because, he was surprised to discover, she was beautiful. Dark chocolate hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and while he liked the view of her slender pale neck, he had this strange desire to see her hair down and free, to run his fingers though it and use it to pull her closer and…

Derek shook his head, trying to stop his mind from going there, going to that place that was skin and sweat and…

"So, are you going to fix my door or what? After all, you did quite rudely kick it in." She gave him a sweetly sarcastic smile. "It was very inconsiderate."

He arched a brow at her, wondering why this tiny slip of a girl wasn't intimidated by him in the slightest, thought she could boss him around. He opened his mouth to answer, but she began talking again before he could even make a sound.

"If its tools you need, I have some. They're pink." She gave him a level look. "Fix my door, Derek." And with that she bounced off into the kitchen, muttering about _boys_ and _messy_ and _stupid, dark eyes._

He eyed the now detached door with disdain, wondering if he could escape without repairing it. He knew, logically, that it wouldn't be difficult to fix, and it really was his fault, but he did not want Rachel to think he was going to do it because she told him to.

Mind made up, he had barely taken one step towards the doorway when he heard a telltale click.

"I realize holding a silver-loaded gun on you is very extreme and very rude of me, as you are currently a guest in my home, but if you don't fix what you broke, I'm going to have a very serious problem. And I will take you down with me."

He turned to face her, eyeing the gun for a moment before letting his eyes rest on her face. "What sort of serious problem?"

She looked amused, which Derek felt, at this current point, with the gun and all, was a very strange and inappropriate reaction.

"Do you really think you're the biggest and baddest thing out there? Darlin', you're not even the biggest baddest in this town. You have no idea what else in this place." She gestured to the door on the ground. "And while that may seem like small and useless protection, you'd be surprised how many very bad things can be deterred by a door. So you're going to fix it." She handed him a small black toolbox, and lowered the gun, clicking the safety back in place.

"I'm going to go clean the hurricane your boys inflicted on my living room." She turned to go, but paused in the doorway. "And, thank you, Derek."

He decided he liked the way she said his name, as he opened the toolbox and analyzed the door. Turning to look at the tools, he bit back a growl. Maybe that was the only thing he liked about her, he decided. Everything else was just frustrating and strange.

The tools were pink.

* * *

Rachel felt guilty. She didn't want to hold a gun on him. She didn't want to use the threat of silver. But he didn't understand the gravity of the situation. That door had been warded—a gift from a friend—and if he broke it, he had to be the one to fix it. She didn't know or understand why. In all honesty, she had dozed when he explained it to her, but she remembered enough to know that if Derek didn't reattach her door, she and her family and friends were screwed.

There were too many things trying to kill her for her to be anything less that overly cautious.

She finished cleaning the living room in record time, humming under her breath while she picked up abandoned monopoly pieces and Chinese take-out cartons. She heard Derek finishing up as well, and decided that maybe, just maybe, she could try to be nice to him now that he fixed her door.

She wandered into the front hall and leaned against the entryway, taking a moment to appreciate the fine specimen of man…wolf?...before her. He really was very good looking, especially, she noticed as he bent to replace her tools, from this angle.

"See something interesting?"

She blushed at getting caught, turning her face away as he stood up and clicked her door shut, everything in place.

"Nope. Nothing at all." She took her pink tools from him, grinning at the thought of him using them—she probably should have given him her daddy's Craftsman set, but hers were so much more entertaining. Maybe Noah was right—she's a little evil.

She walked towards the kitchen, addressing him over her shoulder. "Want something to drink?"

She smiled as she felt his heat following her. She had a feeling things in her life were about to get very interesting…


	11. Chapter Ten

**Kayla here again. Still not owning anything, I tried my best to do Derek so don't hate me. I also tried to get Stiles relationship with his Dad down…I love their relationship. And Two weeks until season two of Teen wolf….ahhhhh!**

* * *

After Derek fixed Rachel's door, he stood there awkwardly not knowing what to do with the two girls. He didn't want to leave the hunter's house until he was sure that she wasn't coming after him or his pack, yet he didn't want to stay given that both these girls were under 18 and he was in his early twenties.

"So, how do you know Stiles and Scott?" he said trying to make small talk, not something he was too fond off but according to Stiles he had to get better with his social skills.

"We go to school with them," Quinn said, she bit her lip as she thought about Stiles and blushed. She missed him already, maybe she'll give him a call later.

"Oh, okay," Derek said nodding his head.

"This is all to awkward, Derek if you want to leave you may, although I think we should talk and set some rules for each other," Rachel said.

Derek nodded. "Well, good bye," he waved awkwardly and walked out of the house. He drove by Scotts house to see Stiles' jeep sitting there, so he snuck to Scott's bedroom window and tapped scaring the crap out of both the boys.

"Derek, what the hell are you doing here?" Scott asked as he opened the window.

"Well need to talk about your new hunter friend and your girlfriend's hunter family," Derek said a bit crossly as he shoved his way into Scott's room. "And what the hell is up with leaving me alone with those two?"

"We didn't break the door," Stiles said mischievously.

"So, you could have stayed," Derek said grumpily.

"And have the awkward tension build even more, nah," Scott said. He kind of enjoyed Derek's discomfort of being around Rachel and Quinn. He looked over at Stiles who was currently looking at his phone. Scott blinked in confusion, Stiles was never like that before. Quinn must have texted him. Those two should just make it official and get together.

"So, why are you friends with a hunter?" Derek asked.

"Because she helped me out," Stiles asked.

"And that blonde-," Derek said.

"Quinn, her name is Quinn," Stiles interrupted.

"Quinn, she's a wolf?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, she was in a car accident and her wolf gene made her heal faster, Rachel found out she was hiding out in my room so she took her over there and gave her some different clothes other than mind and then we lied to my dad," Stiles said. He kind of hated lying to his dad about something this big but what could he do? The Sheriff would probably ground Stiles for blabbering on about werewolves and such. After a good long talk Derek finally decided to leave them alone and Stiles decided it was time to go home. When he got home his dad was sitting in the armchair watching ESPN.

"How was your day?" the sheriff asked.

"It was fun, hanging out with Scott and them was great," Stiles said.

"Stiles, listen, I'm glad you called me when you found Quinn, her mother was worried sick about her. I'd be worried sick if you suddenly disappeared from the hospital like that," the Sheriff said standing up. Stiles didn't know what to say to that, he instantly felt back that he lied to his father. So instead he just hugged his father tightly.

"I promise you, Dad, I won't run away from the hospital," he said. Stiles than walked back to his room and laid down on his bed, thinking about everything that's gone on in his life. Why couldn't he just tell his Dad the truth? It would be better than constantly lying to the man.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**AN: Jules. So I finally got to watch the Glee finale. Cried all the way through, cried for, like, an hour afterwards. Favorite part? Rachel's on the train and Puck is crying and mouths "love you" and holds his hands in a heart over his chest. I honestly just want to rewatch that scene on repeat. If anyone wants to make me a puckleberry-happy gif with all the puckleberry moments and this one, I would love you forever and ever. Also, I don't own anything, because if I did, the "love you," would have been an "I love you" as they sat on the train to New York** _**together.** _ **Endgame.**

**Except, you know, in this story. Although he does make an entrance.**

**My two lovely reviewers, you are both amazing! Findmywaybacktoyou and Heart's Fate, thank you both for your comments. =) Hope you like this chapter!**

**So I kind of went a roll with this one, and I just couldn't stop. So, I hope everyone enjoys.**

**Reviews will make me stop my glee-induced sob-fest. Just saying.**

**Alright, I've babbled at you enough. Go read. Go.**

* * *

Quinn lay in Rachel's bed, honestly curious as to how the smaller girl could possibly be sleeping after a day like this. They had successfully lied to the sheriff, Scott's mom and Quinn's own mother, had met two werewolves, and had managed to get through the entire day without either of them receiving an "I miss you" text from Finn.

That in itself was really a miracle.

So Quinn lay there awake, listening to the occasional humming and, yes, _singing_ coming from the sleeping girl next to her, and thought over how the day had ended.

Rachel had called her back downstairs to the kitchen after about half an hour, during which Quinn had been going through the brunette's closet and pulling out the things that desperately needed to be burned. Upon arriving downstairs, she'd discovered that the living room had been cleaned and the front door repaired. She'd gone into the kitchen and suppressed a grin—the sexual tension between Rachel and Derek, both watching each other silently, had been thick and clear and so very obvious.

They had made awkward small talk with Derek before he practically _ran_ out the door, obviously uncomfortable in any social situation.

And soothe girls ended up making some of Rachel's famous sugar cookies, deciding what they were going to wear to school tomorrow, and really just being two teenage girls, laughing and having fun.

Quinn sighed, rolling over. She wasn't sure what she's expecting to happen tomorrow, but she knows it won't be necessarily _good._

Eventually she drifted off to sleep and dreamed of a cute boy and grilled cheese sandwiches.

* * *

Rachel found herself cooking breakfast again-pancakes this time-while she waited for Quinn to wake up. She knew the other girl was worried about going back to school today, and so was she.

Over the past few years, Rachel had learned quite a lot about her fellow glee-mates, and especially about Finn Hudson. She knew he was not okay with her breaking up with him—he liked to be the dumper in all of his relationships—and she knew he would not react well when she refuses to take him back. He's going to ask her to, or probably assume she will without asking her anything, and when she says no, he'll start going after Quinn. Because he always has to have one, if not both, of them.

And when Quinn says no? Well, that when the "shit will fly," as Noah crassly says. This, of course, leads to Rachel's most heartbreaking piece of knowledge: where Finn goes, so go the gleeks.

Not all of them of course. Noah, for one, would follow Finn absolutely no where, and Rachel believes Santana and Brittany will be apathetic to either viewpoint. But the others? Kurt and Artie, Mercedes, Tina and Sugar? They will all side with Finn. They'll all rail against her, these people who say that they're her friends. They'll call her selfish and…

Rachel sighed, turning off the stove and setting the table for five instinctually. The wildcards will be Blaine, Mike, Sam and Rory.

She and Sam had not really interacted that much, aside from last year's prom, and while Quinn technically had cheated on him with Finn, the two were actually pretty good friends now, which made Rachel think that he would not abandon them simply because Finn's feelings are hurt.

Blaine and she have always gotten along, as had she and Mike, and they were both boys who were generally level-headed and loyal. They see things the way they are, so they might not be swayed by the _Finn rules all_ mentality of the others. She wondered, though, if their respective significant others would rules out their logic that they can, technically, be friends with Finn, and with Rachel and Quinn.

Rory was new enough and Irish enough that Rachel had no idea how he was going to react to the Finchel finale.

She had so few friends as it was, she really didn't want to lose any more. But she knew that breaking up with Finn might very well make her lose them all.

She shook herself out of her thoughts as she heard Quinn coming down the stairs. She began pouring juice into four glasses, coffee into a mug.

"Uh, Rach?" Quinn sounded confused. "Why are there five settings?"

Rachel turned around, furrowing her brow.

"I don't know, actually. I just…had a feeling."

Quinn opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the doorbell.

The girls glanced at each other before going to the door to see who was ringing.

Standing on Rachel's porch was a very annoyed looking Noah Puckerman, next to an amused Scott and very, very hyper Stiles, bouncing on the balls of his feel and almost shouting hello as the door opened. Rachel suppressed a smile as Noah—who was _not_ a morning person—glared the boy, and Stiles ceased bouncing immediately.

"Hello, Noah!" Rachel chirped, grinning widely. "Hello, Stile, Scott. Would you like to come in? I made pancakes."

They filed in, saying hello to Quinn. As Stiles asked Quinn about her night and Scott moved to the kitchen, Rachel closed her front door, laughing as she heard Noah mumble something about pancakes being awesome.

She turned to Quinn, grinning widely.

"I keep telling you I'm a little psychic."

The five ate in silence, Stiles and Scott both looking unsure of Noah's presence—Rachel knew better. Noah was not Puck, although both seemed to have the same pancake radar. Somehow, if she made pancakes, he'd appear on her doorstop.

Finally, the silence broke.

"M'Puck," he said, mouth full. Rachel glared until he swallowed, looking sheepish.

Scott and Stiles both nodded and introduced themselves—after swallowing, as they wanted to avoid Rachel's wrath—and they finished breakfast in peace, helped Rachel clean up, and left for school.

It only occurred to Rachel during the drive over in Noah's truck that she never did find out why they came over.

* * *

Aside from Noah, she and Quinn had managed to successfully avoid the gleeks—or at least, from talking to them—and Finn all day, so by lunch Rachel knew her luck must've run out.

She was standing by her locker, answering a text from Noah—asking her how to convince some Cheerio to skip class with him, as if she'd know—when her locker is suddenly slammed shut by Finn, looking…well, constipated. Rachel wasn't sure if he was confused, angry, or just attempting to think.

"Hello, Finn," she said calmly. "I was not actually finished in there, so if you could step back and allow me to reopen my locker and finish my business, I would greatly appreciate it." She said this all very fast, knowing the faster she spoke, and the more words she used, the more confused he would get. And the more confused Finn gets, the faster he goes away.

"No. we need to talk."

She sighed. "About what, Finn? About how you didn't want me to go see my best friend after she was in a car accident? About how before that you were slowly isolating me from my best friends? From Quinn? From Noah?" she was furious now, letting out all of the anger she'd been holding in.

He started to interrupt with a "Puck is" but she stopped him.

"I've known Noah since we were three, Finn Hudson, so don't you dare tell me some stupid bullshit about why I shouldn't hang out with him."

If he was surprised at her cursing, she didn't see it, too far into her rant now.

"For years now you've been trying to control me, which is ridiculous because you don't even _know_ me. You used me to get ahead, tossed me aside for Quinn, and then pulled me back in again, only to do the same thing. You once left me in a Christmas tree lot, _alone_ , at _night_ , in the _snow._ You ruined our chances at Nationals last year by kissing me and after all that I still took you back. I agreed to marry you in an apparent moment of complete and utter insanity.

But telling me no? Telling me to stay and marry you instead of going to Quinn? Telling me it would be a waste of time? That was the final straw. I meant what I said two days ago Finn. You and I have had our last run. We're over. That's it, that's all."

She turned to walk away, but his hand landed on her arm, pulling her back. He was squeezing tighter than comfortable and she tried to pull away.

"Finn, let go." She looked around to see if she had a friend n ear by, stopping when she saw Scott and his girlfriend down the hall, coming their way. Scott had his eyes narrowed in on Finn's hand, and his girlfriend-Allison? Alyssa?-was watching her face.

Fin was babbling on about how they belonged together, or something, when Scott and –Alexis?-reached them. The wolf casually pried Finn's hand off her arm and stepped between them, interrupting the much larger boy.

"Hey, Rachel," he said, "this is my girlfriend Allison." He started moving them down the hall with him, away from Finn, the white-knuckled grip on his backpack the only sign of his tenuous control. "I wanted you guys to meet, because I know you both have a thing for weapons."

Rachel smiled gratefully at him before introducing herself to Allison, and quickly launching into a comparison of crossbows and recurves.

* * *

Scott listened to the girls chat as they walked to meet Stiles, Quinn, and probably that Puck guy, for lunch. He took a quick glance at Rachel's arm, slinging his own arm around Allison's waist. He knew a bruise was probably going to form. Finn Hudson's grip was tight enough that if Rachel hadn't, apparently, a high pain tolerance, he arm would be seriously hurting.

Either way, it was going to bruise, and Derek was going to be pissed.

When Scott went by this morning—before breakfast, which was awesome, just like Puck said—Derek had ranted on and on about Rachel, how she ordered him around. It then turned into how stubborn she seemed and how her eyes got bright when she was talking and, honestly, that's when Scott got out of there.

It was weird to see his alpha so smitten, and Scott knew that once Derek saw the bruise, he was probably going to go after Finn Hudson. Derek's wolf seemed to consider Rachel his now.

And you really shouldn't piss off the wolf.

* * *

Rachel left Scott and Allison in the lunch line, pulling her packed lunch from her backpack while walking towards her usual Finn-free table—in the corner, away from unexpected food related bullying.

Noah was already there, and she sat next to him, leaving space for Quinn on her other side.

She'll admit she was a little surprised when Scott and Allison came and sat with them, the boy immediately launching into a discussion on sports. She exchanged an amused glance with Allison, but was cut off from saying anything by the arrival of Quinn and Stiles.

She'll admit she was very, very surprised when Santana and Brittany sat down too.

"Hey, bitch. Berry, Puckerman." Santana looked at the other three, eyebrow raised. "Lacrosse boys. Unknown girl."

Brittany waved happily, leaning towards Rachel and Quinn to tell them Lord Tubbington's latest transgressions with thievery and drug abuse.

* * *

Across the cafeteria, Lydia watched the corner table warily, calling for her boyfriend's attention.

"Jackson, why are Scott and Allison eating with Rachel Berry of all people?"

Jackson looked up and over, eyes narrowing. "I don't know."

He titled his head to the side, listening in to their conversation.

"They're talking about some crazy guy who thinks he's a lord. He's apparently on drugs and just stole an x-box." He looked at her. "If they want to eat with the loser, that's up to them. McCall's barely popular as is, if he wants to go back to being bullied, he can."

And he dug back into his burger, ignoring Lydia's lingering look—not on Scott or Allison, but on Stiles, talking animatedly with the one and only Quinn Fabray.

* * *

**AN: Now I know I don't usually do an end of chapter note, but I do want to know: how many of you thought the coffee was for Derek, rather than Noah? Honestly, so did I. But when I wrote it, it came out as Noah Puckerman, so I went with it.**

**Review?**

**Love!**


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Kayla here, again. OMG I loved Jules's chapter, that was great right? Yeah, we don't own a thing still, and seriously with the finale of Glee if I owned Glee Kurt would have been in NYC with Rachel. I'm going to try and top Jules's chapter. Here I go.**

* * *

Stiles wasn't sure how he should take this Puck guy, but hey he didn't glare at Stiles like Danny always did so Puck seemed like an okay guy. Stiles still wondered why Danny didn't like him very much. But he wasn't going to focus on that. Brittany Pierce was currently talking about her cat Lord Tubbington being on drugs and stealing an X-box.

"I want to meet your cat," Stiles said. Quinn laughed as Stiles said this and everyone from the Glee club gave Stiles a weird look.

"Forgive Stiles, he's just…Stiles," Scott said having no way to describe his ADHD best friend.

"What the hell is a Stiles?" Santana asked.

"I'm a Stiles," Stiles replied, he remembered when Lydia utter the same sentence while she was all drug up for Post-traumatic stress disorder. Santana raised her eyebrows and went back to eating her lunch, uninterested in the hyper boy. There was a bit of an awkward silence as they ate their lunch then Quinn started a conversation back up with Santana and Quinn. Stiles looked over at Rachel noticing a bit a bruise starting to form on her arm. "Rachel, what happened to your arm?" Stiles himself had a low tolerance for pain; he hoped that when he died it was quick and painless.

"Finn had a hold of my arm," Rachel said in a lower voice. "If it weren't for Scott stepping in I would still be listening to how I belonged with him."

"That bastard," Puck muttered. Stiles looked over at him a bit surprised. As he remembered it Puck and Finn were best friends.

"Why don't we change the subject before we get too angry," Allison said as she held Scott's hand under the table. Allison could tell that Scott was getting upset about this and she didn't need him shifting and losing control in the middle of school.

"So, Brittany, tell us more about what Lord Tubbington has done," Rachel said looking over at the blonde. Brittany launched into a tale about how she caught him smoking and with the stolen X-box. Stiles watched Quinn interact with her friends a bit. Her smile was bright and beautiful and it could instantly put a smile on his face.

"Quinn, how are you, since last night?" Stiles asked in a lower tone so no one else could hear as she looked at him.

"I'm good, Stiles, I can't believe we fooled my mom, your dad, and Scott's mom," Quinn whispered back.

"Well, it's easier to believe if more people say the same story, plus they don't know about werewolves so it's easier to believe that story," Stiles replied.

"Yeah true," Quinn said.

"But if you have a craving for grilled cheese just let me know," Stiles said winking at Quinn. Quinn just laughed at him. Stiles felt eyes on the back of his head and looked around to see Lydia Martin staring right at him and Quinn, well more like glaring at Quinn. Lydia seemed jealous, but she had no reason to be, she was dating Jackson who was concentrating on his burger.

"Stiles, Lydia is staring at you," Scott said.

"Let her stare," Stiles said turning his back to the girl with strawberry blonde hair.

Derek could stop thinking of the short girl who bossed him around last night. He paced, he worked out, he couldn't get her out of his mind. Derek wondered what she was doing right now, but the he realized she was probably in school. A relationship with her could end very badly. He could get in trouble for her being under age and she could just suddenly decide to want him dead. Derek was already wanted by Beacon Hills police because Scott was a dumb ass and accused him of being a murderer.

A couple of hours later he heard the familiar sound of Stiles's jeep pull up in front of his house. He heard four people get out of the car and looked out the window to see Scott, Stiles, the blonde wolf, and Rachel walking towards his house. Derek was dangerously close to smiling, something he hasn't done for six years.

"Hey, Derek, we come to visit!" Stiles called. Derek took a bit of time and then he walked out of the house keeping his face in the serious expression it was most comfortable in.

"Hi," he said awkwardly, he noticed a bruise on Rachel's arm. "What happened to your arm?"

"An ex-boyfriend gripped me a bit too tightly there," Rachel said.

"What's his name?" Derek asked, he felt himself getting angry but tried to keep his cool.

"Finn Hudson," Quinn answered when nobody else did. Derek growled and took off running through the woods. He didn't even have to go to town to find this Finn Hudson, he was following Rachel to Derek's rundown house. Rachel and the rest of them followed watching as Derek confronted the stupid teenager.

"Are you Finn Hudson?" Derek asked angrily. Finn nodded shaking with fear.

"Cool it, Derek, my Dad still has the police looking for you," Stiles said.

"Why did you hurt Rachel?" Derek asked. He saw out of the corner of his eyes the four teenagers all look at each other.

"Derek? As in Derek Hale? The guy wanted for murder?" Finn asked as he dug out his cell phone. "I'll call the police if you do any to me." Stiles went up and took Finn's phone away from him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Stiles said.

"Oh, yeah, and who are you?" Finn asked.

"Stiles, the son sheriff, " Stiles said.

"And why haven't you turned this nut job in?" Finn asked.

"Because it was a big misunderstanding, dude, you're even more a dumb ass than Scott," Stiles said.

"Hey," Scott said in protest.

"Sorry, Scott, but you are a dumb ass at times," Stiles looked back at his best friend, when he turned back to Finn he saw the taller boys hand coming towards him and felt it connect with his jaw bone. He stumbled to the ground nursing a sore jaw. "Ouch!" Derek growled again and got up into Finn's face, he was the same height as the quarterback and a lot more intimidating. Scott was right by Derek's side.

"You don't punch him, ever," Derek said, his eyes were glowing red as his anger rose. Scott's eyes were glowing yellowing, Stiles wondered if Finn Hudson was about to discover the existence of werewolves.

**Yeah, I made Finn punch Stiles…..he may redeem himself later on maybe...but dun dun dunnnn are Scott and Derek going to teach Finn a lesson? Watch this space to find out.**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**AN: Jules! Kay gave me so much to play with and I hope I do it justice! Stupid Finn. =/**

**Heart's Fate, did you find that scene? I hope so. He was being all adorable. And thank you for another awesome review! May I just say, you responded very fast. =)**

**Findmywaybacktoyou, I don't think we have anything planned for Noah on the romance front…maybe he'll be like s1 Puck, different girl all the time? I could definitely have fun with that.**

**Start sending in girl names for Noah! Lol.**

**I also tried to go into (our version of) the werewolf myth/pack stuff a little bit….**

**So, read on, review if you'd like to. Hope you love the chapter, or at least like it….frenemies with it? Anyway.**

**As I like to say, and forgive me for being so bossy: go.**

**No, seriously.**

**Go.**

* * *

Rachel watched the escalating fight in horror. She knew werewolves were temperamental and territorial, but she didn't think she was in enough with this pack to warrant that reaction from their alpha, especially from only a bruise. She looked at her own arm-honestly, she hadn't even realized it was there, but it was, blue and ugly and Finn-sized hand shaped.

She looked up in time to see Stiles hit the ground, and Derek getting into Finn's face, eyes flashing.

_Shit._

She ran. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Quinn and Allison grab Stiles and pull him away, and she wondered how Quinn was holding on to the control that the two boys were quickly losing. One glance later and Rachel rescinded her thought—Quinn's eyes were just a golden-yellow as Scott's.

She tried her best to dive in between Finn and Derek, but as she got close to Finn, Derek's hand grabbed her jacket and pulled her behind him, shielding her from what his wolf perceived as a threat. _And,_ Rachel thought, looking at the fury in Finn's eyes and the clenching of both fists, _he just might be._

It was a silent standoff, but Rachel knew it wouldn't last. Finn was very good at making people very, very angry.

Rachel tugged slightly on Derek's hand. He was holding lightly onto her waist, with enough pressure to hold her there, but not enough to hurt her.

"Rachel, what the hell are you doing here?" Finn broke the silence. "You too, Quinn! Its bad enough you hang out with Puckerman even though he went to juvie, but c'mon. This guy's wanted for murder."

And then Finn Hudson did the stupidest thing he's ever done. And all hell broke loose.

He reached to grab her from behind Derek.

And Derek leapt, throwing himself into Finn with a growl. His fists flew, hitting Finn wherever he could. He hadn't _changed_ yet, but Rachel knew it was only a matter of time.

"Allison," she called over her shoulder, trying to get close enough to stop Derek without getting hurt. "Watch Scott, help him!" She knew Allison knew what she meant—if Finn saw any of the wolves shift, they were going to be in even more trouble than they already were.

She faintly heard Allison yell "got it," and Stiles yell that he had Quinn, but she was concentrating mainly on the growls and groans and dull thwacks of flesh hitting flesh coming from the two boys in front of her. Derek was standing, reaching down to pick up a very bloody Finn as if to throw him. Rachel knew she had to do something and fast.

She quickly considered everything she knew about werewolves, before realizing the answer was in front of her face. Derek was doing this because he thought she was in danger. So if he thought there was a different danger…

She backed up, away from the others a couple of feet and screamed.

Just, screamed.

It worked. Derek's head whipped around to face her, red eyes flashing, and he promptly dropped Finn on the ground. Rachel blinked and suddenly, there he was, right in front of her. He looked her over, circling her and sniffing, growling when he saw the bruise again. He turned as if to go back to Finn, and Rachel grabbed him desperately by the waist, burying her face in his—oh so very muscled—chest. She felt him freeze, so she rubbed her face on his shirt a little, whispering quietly to him.

* * *

Derek was _pissed._ He was beyond words. He kept beating into this prick, trying to hold the shift back as best he could, while still teaching the little shit a lesson.

And then she screamed, and he forgot all about the dumbass whimpering beneath him. He was next to her in seconds, checking for injury. Derek knew that this was not normal. He'd known the girl a day, barely. But the wolf was ruling him right now, and _he_ thought that this tiny girl was _his. His_ to protect and keep safe and some other things that Derek couldn't look at too closely right now.

She seemed fine, he decided, as his eyes hit that bruise again. He started turning back to that boy, but suddenly her arms were around him, she was rubbing her scent into his shirt.

"It's okay," she whispered, "I'm okay. I'm not hurt, it's fine. Calm down, Derek. Calm down." She repeated it a couple times, and Derek felt himself relax, taking control back from the wolf.

Until the little shit started to get up, and any control Derek had gained was lost again as he disentangled her limbs from around him, zeroing in on the boy.

* * *

Rachel heard Finn start to stand, felt Derek pulling her away, and got desperate. She really did not need Derek killing Finn Hudson. He was already accused of one murder—the last thing he needed was a second.

So she kissed him.

* * *

Derek froze when he felt her on him. And then there were lips and suddenly he wasn't quite sure who was in charge anymore. He just kissed her back, letting the world melt away and getting lost in the feel of her against him. He had enough mind to realize the girl was on her tip-toes, so he lifted her up, holding her against him by the waist as she wrapped her legs around his torso.

He gave her bottom lip a soft bite, making her gasp and allowing him to slip his tongue in, playing with hers. She had one hand pulling at his hair, sliding down his next to press him closer.

And then everything went black.

* * *

Rachel slid to the ground, slipping the gun back into her jeans before Finn noticed it. She had had to do _something_. She couldn't have kissed him forever, as awesome as that sounded right now, because she had a feeling he would have eventually remembered that he was currently beating Finn's face in. So she hit him. With the butt of her gun. Not her best plan, no, but apparently effective.

Speaking of Finn…she looked over to where he was woozily standing. Actually, to where he was being held up by Jackson Whittemore, who looked angry and confused.

"Well, this is going to be fun," she said to herself, before surveying the others. Quinn was checking Stile's face, seemingly more in control than any of the others. Allison was rubbing Scott's back and whispering soothing words to him as the yellow faded from his eyes.

"Okay. Easily controlled situation. Really." She looked at Scott. "Um, you guys go into the house, with Derek." She turned to Jackson. "Jackson, if you could help me bring Finn to his car, and then come back here, that would be most helpful. I'll be back after I try and convince and/or confuse Finn into not knowing what happened here today."

With that she marched off towards the road where Finn had parked, hearing Jackson muttering curses as he dragged Finn behind him.

They got to Finn's car and she fished his keys from the pocket of his hoodie, helping Jackson stick him in the driver's seat. She climbed up into the passenger side, ignoring the weak smile on Finn's face that clearly said he thought he'd won her back.

"Thank you, Jackson. I'll be back in a few."

He looked like he wanted to argue, so she cut him off. "Go, or I'll tell your alpha you frequently throw slushies in my face."

He growled, but turned and walked back the way they had come, shaking his head.

She turned to Finn.

"Rachel…"

"Are you stupid, Finn Hudson? Wait, no, don't answer that. Everyone and their deceased grandmother know the answer to that." She exhaled loudly.

"Where's my phone, Rachel? I need to call the cops."

She whipped her head around to face him. "What?"

"He assaulted me! He deserves to be locked up, he's obviously dangerous."

Rachel shoved the hand he placed on her knee off of her. "You call the cops, Finn, and I tell them that Derek was only trying to protect me. And then I show them this." She held out her bruised arm. "Yeah, you left a mark. And I will not hesitate to tell them that it was you. So you won't call the cops. You won't say anything to anyone about what happened here today."

Finn just laughed, shaking his head. "Rachel, stop trying to be scary. You're not."

She groaned, reaching back and slamming his head into the steering wheel. "I could kick your ass from here to next Tuesday, Hudson. Do what I say, and the cops won't come knocking at your door for abuse." With that, she got out of the car, slamming the door.

"Go home, Finn. And forget this ever happened."

She walked off into the woods; heading back to what she was sure would be a fun discussion in Derek's…strange house. She knew threatening Finn was mean, and borderline lying because he didn't technically abuse her, but if it kept the law enforcement away from the supernatural, it was worth it. The two just did not mix at all. Someone innocent inevitably got hurt.

She stood outside, staring at the house, and took a deep breath.

"Are you coming in Rachel, or would you like to talk by shouting?" Quinn yelled out to her and Rachel smiled. Her best friend was so weird.

She went in and looked around, not seeing anyone.

"Marco!"

She heard a chorus of "polo's" and followed the noise into a larger room that held some chairs, a fireplace, a worn rug, and a couch, which currently had Derek sprawled across it.

Jackson was the first to speak.

"So, who wants to clue me in on what the hell is going on?"

"Well," Scott began, but stopped, looking at Quinn, sitting on the floor by Stiles, and Rachel, standing in the middle of the room.

"I guess we can start with me being a werewolf," Quinn said.

"And we can end with Finn Hudson being a dumbass," Stiles added, laughing.

Jackson looked at them all, landing on Rachel last.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," he said, "but right now you're the most sane one in this room, Berry. What the hell is going on?"

She gave the unconscious alpha a quick look before flopping down on the floor and telling him everything. She began with her wedding and Quinn's wreck, and ended with the events of today.

Jackson waited until she was done before he rounded on Scott.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me any of this, Scott? A new wolf? And she's a hunter. I had a right to know."

Scott dropped Allison's hand and stood, eyes flashing. "Our alpha was the only one who _needed_ to know, Jackson, and he knows. Now sit down and shut up."

Rachel arched a brow as Jackson slid into a chair, obviously unhappy with being left out of the informational loop.

"So," she said to Scott, "you're beta, then? Derek's second-in-command, so to speak." He nodded. "Then Jackson and Lydia, and then that other boy. His friend." She pointed to Jackson, who was watching her suspiciously.

"Danny," Stiles supplied, smiling. He seemed to be enjoying the slight chaos surrounding the day.

"Yeah, him. He's the lowest in the pack hierarchy."

Scott nodded.

"How do you know all that, Berry? Planning to kill us all starting with the weakest?"

She looked at him evenly. "I make it a point to know, so that if a situation arises…publicly, I can handle it. As to killing any of you, that's something I'd rather discuss with your alpha." She shrugged. "After that, sharing with you is entirely up to him."

She checked the time on her phone. "We should probably go," she told Quinn, who then looked to Stiles, as he drove them here.

"Yeah, I should get going too, before my dad sends out a search party." He looked at Scott. "Tell our surly leader that I'm fine, once he wakes up."

The three of them stood, Stiles and Quinn going ahead of Rachel as she pulled a tubberware container out of her bag, along with a piece of paper and a pen.

She wrote out a quick note, talking conversationally to Jackson as she did.

"So, how did you know to come here, Jackson?"

He looked at her then at Derek. "I felt it. His rage. So I figured I'd come and help, if he needed it."

"Lydia and Danny didn't feel it?" she asked.

"They did, but Danny is more of the peacekeeper, and Lydia…Derek likes Lydia to stay away when he's that pissed. She's too confrontational. Makes things worse." He shrugged, watching Scott disappear up the worn stairs.

She nodded, walking to the side table at the end of the couch. She set the container down, placing the note on top of it, and ran out of the old house to Stiles' Jeep.

* * *

Jackson glanced at the note when he left ten minutes later, rolling his eyes.

Hunter or not, Rachel Berry was nuts.

* * *

_Sorry for hitting you. Possibly sorry for kissing you. Have a cookie. They're famous._

_-Rachel Berry*_


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: Kayla here. Sorry it took so long for me to add I was distracted by the car I bought myself and when I had the chance to sit down to add today my internet decided to go out because it's raining here…I almost took a nap. Anyway Jules chapter was great again. I tried to deal with the aftermath as best I could. I hope you like it. EIGHT DAYS UNTIL TEEN WOLF SEASON TWO.**

* * *

* * *

Stiles was a bit shocked that Finn punched him. He must admit he shouldn't have called the tall guy a dumb ass but no one else ever punched him for calling them that. He felt Quinn and Allison pulling him back so he pushed with his feet to help them, he can be a bit of dead wait when he was surprised.

Stiles watched as Derek beat the shit out of Finn after he reached for Rachel. He looked at Quinn to see she was about to shift. "Quinn, Quinn, look at me, don't think about that dumbass, he's not worth it," Stiles said grabbing Quinn's face and getting her to concentrate on him.

"But he punched you," she said.

"I'm fine, it doesn't even hurt," Stiles lied, he's jaw was throbbing, he probably was going have swelling and/or a black and blue mark but he had to calm Quinn down, because it was no use to have her lose control like Derek is losing it. As Rachel screamed everyone looked at her. Stiles thought for a moment that Derek was taking it way too far with Finn but realized she was getting him to stop and it worked.

"Damn, Rachel, you have got some lungs on you," Stiles said. Derek went over to Rachel leaving Finn lying on the ground, looking like he was just mugged. Stiles kind of felt back for the dude, he probably had no idea that werewolves existed and he was being beaten up but the local alpha. But Stiles's throbbing jaw didn't make him feel too bad for Finn. Stiles saw Rachel kissing Derek and watched as Jackson helped Finn up.

Scott couldn't believe that Derek actually beat up Finn, the Captain of the Football team. Scott wondered how Rachel was going to convince him not to call the cops. Or when he got home covered in cuts in bruises how they were going to avoid the police. It sucked being a werewolf and having a short temper.

"What the hell are you thinking? Beating up the captain of the football team?" Jackson asked as he entered Derek's house.

"He punched Stiles," Derek said simply.

"So," Jackson said.

"And he gave Rachel a black and blue mark," Derek said again, but Scott noticed that the alpha seemed to be having an internal struggle. Probably the same one he was having, one voice justified what they did and the other one kept saying 'we should've just walked away'. Eventually Derek stopped pacing and flopped down on the couch, falling asleep instantly. He saw Stiles trying not to laugh as the alpha's snores filled the room.

Stiles lead Quinn and Rachel to his jeep when suddenly thought about it.

"How the hell did Allison get here?" he asked Quinn who shrugged. "I don't know," she said.

"Looks like a mystery for another day," Stiles said as he opened doors for the two girls and climbed in the driver's seat. He shifted his jeep into gear and took off toward Rachel's house. After they said good bye to the hunter Stiles drove towards Quinn's house.

"So how have things been since you went back to your mom's house?" Stiles asked.

"Pretty awkward, Mom says she could have sworn I had a lot more cuts they she sees," Quinn said.

"Well, she isn't wrong there, but we shouldn't tell her that," Stiles said smiling. He pulled in Quinn's drive and looked over at the blonde girl. She was smiling. Stiles didn't know if he was moving too fast or not. He never had a girlfriend before, but he found himself kissing her. They pulled apart, both shocked that they did that, but they smiled at each other and continued kissing.

"Quinn, do you want to be my girlfriend?" Stiles asked in between kisses.

"Oh, shut up, Stiles, of course I do," she said as they continued kissing.

**A/N: And yes, I do believe Derek would be one to snore.**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**AN: Jules. So, we had questions at the end of the last chapter…such as Allison appearing. Hm.**

**However, I'm not going to answer them. Sorry. I will, however, give you Derek/Rachel (what did you call it Findmywaybacktoyou? Halerry? =) ).**

**Hopefully that will make up for it. ;)**

**As always, thank you to our lovely reviewers, Findmywaybacktoyou and Heart's Fate, the latter of whom keeps breaking her update-to-review ratio record-30 minutes for chapter thirteen and 20 for chapter fourteen. Shall we try for ten this time?**

**xD**

**Go!**

* * *

Rachel hung up the phone with a sigh, walking into her bathroom and turning on the shower.

She had just finished talking to her fathers. Her daddy's case got extended, so he and her dad were going to be gone an extra week, at least. This wasn't unusual—her fathers, while very attentive and loving while here, were often away on business trips, or romantic getaways. Rachel personally believed that the closed-mindedness of her father's peers in Beacon Hills bothered them more than they would ever let her know, so they go on trips to New York and Los Angeles, to more accepting places.

She was used to their absences, and it was convenient, given her _unusual_ "job." That didn't mean, however, that she liked them being gone. She missed their support, and their singing before dinner. Mostly, she was lonely. Coming home to this big, empty house after school—after being humiliated and mocked and _slushied_ , just wanting comfort—really, really sucked.

She stepped into the shower, reveling in the warm water on her skin. The day had been a strange one, but not all necessarily bad. Quinn and Stiles, for example. That was definitely a good thing that happened today. Quinn had called her a couple of hours ago and told her everything—the kisses, being asked to be his girlfriend, how happy she was.

Rachel smiled, lathering her hair in shampoo. She was happy for Quinn. The girl deserved some happiness, and her and Stiles seemed like a really good fit. The blonde girl was especially pleased about the kisses, and she talked Rachel's ear off for a good twenty minutes about them.

Rachel rinsed out her hair, applied conditioner, and began washing her skin, blushing to herself. Quinn wasn't the only one waxing poetic about kissing. Of course, Rachel kept the details of her kiss private. After all, she had only kissed him to distract him. But, oh, what a kiss it was…

She finished rinsing off, humming to herself happily. She turned off the water, stepped out, and wrapped herself in a towel, drying off quickly. She tightened the towel around her body and stepped out of her bathroom and into her bedroom, freezing in the doorway.

Derek was sitting on her white desk chair, looking very, very out of place in her colorful room. And he did not look amused, glaring at her pink and yellow walls as if their cheerfulness offended him deeply.

He looked at her as she entered, and Rachel shivered as his look went from annoyed to… _hungry._ He slid his eyes up her body slowly, intimately, from her polka-dotted painted toes, up to her hair, curling as it slowly dried. She swallowed audibly when his gaze followed a trail of water from the tips of her hair to where it disappeared under her towel. His mouth quirked into a lazy half-smile, his look promising so many delicious and _dangerous_ things.

She cleared her throat, avoiding his eyes. "Do you ever knock?" she asked. "I could teach to, if you need. It's actually really simple. You form your hand into a fist," she smiled, "which you, me and Finn already know you can do, and then you…"

"I know how to knock," he cut her off. She nodded, sliding a step sideways, towards her closet.

"Really? Because you don't do it very often." She stepped backwards, into the walk-in. "Why don't you practice, while I get dressed." And she stepped back again, closing the closet door. She flipped on the light and leaned back against the door, biting her lip. This man was going to be the death of her. She exhaled slowly before moving off the door, searching through her closet for something to wear. She pulled out some cotton shorts and a tank top, slipping them on quickly.

She opened the door, tossing the towel into the bathroom, before turning to face the alpha wolf.

"You know, you really didn't have to get dressed on my account."

Rachel just shook her head, crossing over to her bed and sitting down cross-legged.

"What are you doing here, Derek?"

He quirked up a brow. "We need to talk. But first," he said, "I gotta ask. Why is your room so damn bright?"

She laughed. "You know, a friend of mine asks me that every time he's ever been up here." And it's true—Noah was just as confused as Derek about the colors she chose for her walls.

"Really, though," she said, "I like the color. I like knowing that I'll come home to a bright and cheerful room, even when nothing else is bright. Hunting is not exactly a cheerful life." She shrugged. "I don't know if that even makes sense."

"It does."

Rachel nodded, watching him stretch in her chair. "So what are we talking about, exactly?"

He gave her a level gaze. "We can talk about your policy on werewolves, and we can talk about your werewolf friend-Quinn?" She nodded. "Or we could wait for that and we can talk about you kissing me. And hitting me with your gun."

Her eyes widened. "My werewolf policy, huh? I suppose that would be good information for us to discuss."

He smirked at her cop-out. "And that policy is?"

"Hm?"

"Your werewolf policy. What is it?"

She ripped her eyes away from his stomach, where his shirt had ridden up to reveal a line of tantalizing skin, blushing.

"Oh. Um. I don't kill unless you've killed. That's my whole policy. With everything, not just wolves."

"Not _just_ wolves?" he asked. "What else is there?"

She shook her head. "You really don't want to know. What else was on that list of yours? Quinn?"

He smirked, standing in one smooth motion and stalking towards her. She leaned back as he got closer, and suddenly found herself on her back, Derek hovering over her and looking as though he was going to _eat_ her, _devour_ her.

"Actually, we're going to talk about that kiss."

She bit her lip, watching him with wide eyes. "I…I kissed you to distract you that's all. And I hit you because I knew eventually you would remember that you were beating up Finn."

He leaned down, lips brushing her neck as he went to whisper in her ear. "I definitely would not have remembered _him_ while I was kissing _you."_ He pressed kisses down her neck, stubble rubbing erotically across her skin.

"Oh."'

And then he was kissing her, slowly, deeply, and she was lost to the world, rubbing her hands up his back to slip under his shirt.

Their tongues battled for dominance, while his hands pushed her shirt up, stopping just under her breasts, and her hands ran up and down his back, nails lightly scratching his skin.

This man really was going to be the absolute _death_ of her.

But what a way to go.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**A/N: Kayla here again so we had a little Derek/Rachel action and Stiles/Quinn action…maybe we should have Scott/Allison action now... ha ha**

* * *

Scott snuck in through the window of Allison's room. She sat on her bed waiting for him. It wasn't that her parents didn't know they were still seeing each other but Allison didn't really want the awkward tension that usually accompanied having Scott around her parents.

"Hey, handsome," Allison said smiling. Scott walked over to her bed smiling.

"Hi, beautiful," he replied as they began to kiss. Allison took the bottom of Scott's shirt and began pulling it up and over his head as the kissed. They laid down the bed, Scott on top, kissing. They rolled over and over as the continued to kiss until Scott felt himself falling off the bed with Allison landing on top of him.

"Ouch," he said laughing.

"Sorry," Allison said with a giggle.

Scott heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "Someone's coming," he said as he quickly grabbed his shirt and climbed out on the roof, just in time to hear Allison's father come into Allison's room.

"What are you doing up here?" Mr. Argent asked.

"Nothing, I just stretched too far off my bed and fell," Allison said, Scott heard the bed springs squeak as she sat back down.

"Alright, I was just making sure," Mr. Argent said, his voice was close to the window… good thing Scott wasn't right at the window; he was around the side being as quiet as possible. He knew the werewolf hunter was checking to make sure Scott wasn't hanging around. Scott heard Mr. Argent leave Allison's room and she got up and locked her door. Scott snuck quietly back into her room.

"Sorry about that," Scott whispered smiling.

"It was my fault," Allison whispered back. "You should probably go," she said.

"Allison, I do have one question, how did you get to Derek's house?" Scott asked pulling on his shirt.

"I was going for a run when I saw Finn walking that way and I thought it was strange he was so close to Derek's house so, I followed him and I saw him punch Stiles and you and Derek get up in his face so I decided to come pull Stiles away and see if I could calm you down," Allison said.

"Oh, alright, I just didn't notice you before you came and started talking to me," Scott said.

"You were a bit preoccupied with the guy who punched your best friend," Allison said smiling.

"Someone's coming again," Scott said giving Allison a quick peck on the lips and he climbed out the window. He heard Allison unlock her door and pick up her cell, pretending to talk on it as her Dad walked back in the room. Scott jumped down from the roof and took off running back home. He got home and went up to his room. His mom was working a night shift at the hospital so he had the house to himself. Scott just went up to his room and began to study for his history test, he really needed to improve his grades if he wanted to graduate high school with his friends and this test he had tomorrow was an important one. At least Derek wasn't as demanding with taking up Scott's free time anymore.

Stiles was glad his Dad wasn't home when he got home. His jaw was read and swollen where Finn punched him. He was definitely going to have a black and blue mark there. He wondered if his dad would believe he got hit by a stray baseball in gym class. If the Sheriff arrived at the Hudson house because Finn punched Stiles it would probably mean Finn would tell the Sheriff how Derek Hale was hanging around Stiles and them.

And then Stiles would have a lot of questions thrown his way that he couldn't answer. Grabbing an icepack from the freezer Stiles walked back to his room hold it against his jaw, sighing at it spread it's icy relief on his throbbing jaw. He flopped down on his bed and just laid there thinking over the events of the last few days. He smiled when he got to thinking about Quinn, his girlfriend, and how they kissed. He could still taste her lip gloss on her lips. He didn't know how long he was laying there for but eventually he fell in to a peaceful sleep.

 

"What the hell is with the ice pack?" Stiles woke up to his father saying. Stiles sat up sleepily.

"What?" he asked.

"Why are you cuddling an ice pack?" the Sheriff asked Stiles looked over to see the icepack beside where his head was. "What the hell happened to your jaw?" Stiles's dad noticed the black and blue mark.

"I got hit by a stray baseball in gym class," Stiles mumbled.

"Why didn't you tell me last night?" Sheriff Stilinski asked annoyed.

"You weren't home when I got home and I fell asleep before you got home," Stiles said. The Sheriff nodded understanding and told him to get up and get ready for school.

Later that night Stiles was driving by the cemetery on his way back from Scott's house when he heard commotion in the cemetery. He pulled into the parking lot and went to investigate. Stiles was shocked to find Rachel having a standoff with what looked to be a zombie of some sort.

"Whoa," Stiles said getting the attention of both Rachel and the zombie girl on him and the zombie started coming after him, and Stiles realize it was probably a ghost who was going to kill him.

**A/N: Dun dun dunnnnn…is the ghost going to kill Stiles? Stay tuned. Ha ha..**


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**AN: Jules!**

**There's a ghostie! OoooOOOoooo. And that is my impression of a ghostie noise. Scary, right? xD**

**Heart's Fate, Findmywaybacktoyou, do you two realize how much I love you? I look forward to your reviews so much….=) So, thank you!**

**Hopefully, you'll like this chapter. If anyone knows where the names Kyle, Parker, and Tess come from (one thing, a short-lived television show) I'll send you good Tyler dreams—either Tyler, your choice.**

**Either way, review if you wanna.**

**So go.**

* * *

Rachel parallel parked next to the gates of the Beacon Hills Cemetery, staring into the night. She had spent the past day researching, and she wasn't about to let all of that go to waste by rushing just because she wants to go to bed.

News of the "suspicious death" had reached her last night—by reached, of course, she meant she was snooping on BHPD's dispatch. It had sounded very much like her kind of thing. The body of a twenty-five year old male had been found in a park, missing his tongue. The sheriff, bless his heart, was baffled.

Rachel figured it was a ghost. So she checked out the park before school, dodging the officers, and getting EMF readings—they were off the chart. She researched the man, one Kyle Parker, during lunch and study hall, all while avoiding Finn, evading questions from Noah and listening to Quinn gush about Stiles.

Not that she minded the latter. It did, however, remind her acutely of Derek, who had left not very long after kissing her. He cited the reason to be that he wanted to avoid her parents, who would probably be home any minute. She didn't bother to correct him, needing the space and time to evaluate this _thing_ with him.

Of course, that's when the call came in on dispatch and Rachel was on the job.

Which led to here. Sitting in her car, outside the cemetery. She saw no sign of the ghost, so she got out and went around the trunk. She opened it, pulling up the bottom. The car originally used this space for a spare tire, but now it was filled with _supplies._ Guns and knives of all shapes and sizes, ammo, crossbows, longbows, and some other odd weapons. There were cans of gas and containers of salt, too, and Rachel grabbed one of each, along with a shovel and a sawed-off shotgun loaded with rock salt. It was her favorite—a birthday present from Dean.

She closed the trunk quietly, slipped through the gate and set off for the grave of Tess Parker. Rachel's research had all come up with Tess as the likely culprit for Kyle's death. According to the neighbor Rachel visited after school, Kyle and Tess had a volatile relationship. He was a cheater, and right before Tess died, the neighbor recalled them fighting about it in the front yard. He was yelling that he wasn't screwing around, and she was yelling that he was, and that she was going to "cut that fucking down out of" his "fucking mouth." Tess had killed herself a couple of days later, overdosing on prescriptions.

Rachel approached the grave, setting everything but the shovel down. As she began to dig, she found herself wishing for one of the boys. The digging's her least favorite part. The first time Sam and Dean made her dig, actually, they'd taken pity on her a quarter of the way through and took over.

She smiled at the memory, ignoring the girl who flashed in behind her,

"What are you doing?" Tess Parker asked her.

Rachel continued digging, almost there.

"Hey! Girl! Why are you digging up my body?"

Still ignoring Tess, Rachel tossed the shovel up out of the grave as best she could, and leaned down, opening the casket.

She stood on the edge of the open box and scrabbled at the sides of the hole, pulling herself out.

"Why are you pouring salt on me?" Tess asked. "Ew! Are you going to eat me? Do you eat dead bodies?"

Rachel finished pouring the salt ad traded it for the gas, murmuring a quiet prayer in Hebrew for Tess' soul as she poured the gas over the body.

"Hey! Stop it!" Tess grabbed Rachel's shoulder and whirled the brunette around, causing the gas to drop into the hole.

Rachel threw a punch, knocking the ghost girl back long enough to grab her gun and aim it. She was about to shoot when she heard a familiar voice say "woah." Ghost-Tess disappeared, and Rachel turned in time to see her reappear in front of Stiles.

"Shit."

She started running, aiming the gun at the ghost and firing, cursing as she missed.

Tess mind-threw Stiles up and over Rachel. He landed with a thud and a groan next to the open grave. Rachel stopped running and aimed again.

"Stiles! Toss a match into the grave," she instructed over her shoulder, right before she shot.

Tess disappeared before the shot made contact, flashing in front of Rachel. She tossed the hunter then too, grinning as Rachel landed hard.

Rachel looked up and groaned.

"A _lit_ match, Stiles! A lit one!"

She heard him yell "sorry" as the ghost appeared in front of her.

"Listen, bitch," Rachel began, but Tess cut her off.

"I only gave him what he deserved!" she yelled. "He's the reason I'm dead."

"No," Rachel said, watching as Stiles _finally_ got a match to light. "You're the reason you're dead." She sighed. "And we're the reason you're staying that way."

Stiles dropped the match, jumping back with a yell as the flames shot up. Tess began to burn, too, from the inside out, starting in the center of her body. Rachel watched her burn sadly, whispering a "sorry" into the night as Tess Parker ceased to be.

"What just happened?" Stiles' voice broke Rachel from her reverie. "Was that a ghost? Rachel? Was that a ghost?"

Rachel stood up, dusting herself off, and stormed over to where Stiles was staring at the still burning body. She walked right up to him and slapped him upside his head.

"Are you stupid, Stiles? What were you thinking?" She groaned, turning away and picking her stuff up from the ground. "Go back to your Jeep. I'll be there in a minute." Her voice was hard, and she looked down to discover that her hands were shaking.

She heard Stiles walk away quietly, and only then did she let go. She felt a couple of tears roll down her cheeks, warm in the night air as she watched the fire. This, she knew, this was the reason she kept the hunting life a secret. She had just become friends with Stiles, and she already almost lost him to ghost. She was so tired of losing people.

She wiped the stray tears from her cheeks, using the shovel to both rebury the body and put out the fire. She gathered her stuff together and started a slow walk back to where her car, and presumably Stiles' Jeep, was parked. She dreaded having to have this conversation with him—to be mean and harsh and tell him what he did was stupid, when in fact he was very brave, facing something he didn't know about.

She sighed, opening up her truck and putting everything back. She took a deep breath, braced herself for the possibility of scaring away a friend, and walked around to climb into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

She sighed, running a hand over her face.

"Why are you even here?" she asked him.

"I was driving by on my way home," he explained, "and I saw you and that…girl." He shrugged. "I thought you might be on a hunt."

"Then why would get out of the car? I mean, if you knew I was hunting, and that it was probably dangerous, why did you get out?"

"I thought I could help, if you needed me to."

Rachel just sighed and shook her head, smiling at him. "Well, thank you. Of course, now Derek is going to kill me." She eyed him. "You're already bruising from the toss."

* * *

Rachel had had a good day. She'd gotten a ride to school from Noah this morning, even though there weren't any pancakes in sight, and he actually got them there _early._ She had aced the pop quiz in math, and none of her teachers had told her to put her hand down. Santana, Brittany, Scott, and Allison had once again joined Noah, Quinn, Stiles and herself for lunch. And, even better, Finn had stayed away all day, and she was only accosted by _three_ glee club members about breaking up with Finn.

So, as always, something had to give.

The first sign that he luck had run out was the cherry slushie that came her way just before glee. She didn't have time to change, and she honestly wasn't sure she had extra clothes anyway. So she shook off the excess as best she could, threw her curls into a bun at the top of her head, and entered the choir room.

She ignored Noah's very loud expletive as he saw her red stained shirt, plopping down into the empty chair next to Quinn. The blonde looked her over.

"Mr. Shue isn't here yet, so we've got a couple of minutes," Quinn said. "I think I've got some extra clothes."

Rachel opened her mouth to answer, and found herself being interrupted by Mr. Schuester bouncing into the room. The teacher clapped his hands together, smiling fondly at Finn and ignoring the fact that Rachel was stained red.

Rachel sighed. She knew her good day wouldn't last. Everything was normal again. Business as usual.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**A/N: Kayla here…Ooh hope nobody had nightmares from the ghostie we had last chapter. Stile can't catch a break, he's always getting hurt. Sorry it took me so long to update. But I hope that the end of this chapter makes up for that. Teen Wolf was amazing last night wasn't it? Yes, it was, and tonight's is going to be amazing as well.**

* * *

Stiles walked stiffly through the school halls. He got a big black and blue mark going up his side. Stiles could hide most of it but there was a bit of it visible above his collar. He hoped nobody would pay attention to that since they all keep asking about the one on his jaw. It actually kind of hurt for Stiles to breathe or laugh. Maybe Rachel had a point, Stiles shouldn't try helping with stuff in which he had no knowledge on.

"Stiles, dude, what's up, you seem like you're in pain," Scott said as she came up to Stiles. Stiles looked around to make sure nobody was around since they were supposed to be in class.

"I am, I came across Rachel fighting a ghost last night and well I got thrown," Stiles whispered as he showed Scott the bruise on his side.

"Ouch, are you sure you shouldn't get that checked out?" Scott asked looking at the bruise. Stiles put his shirt down.

"No, because if my Dad finds out I have it he's going to come in here going bat shit crazy on how I shouldn't allowed around gym class, at all," Stiles said.

"You told him you got the bruise on your jaw from gym class?" Scott asked laughing.

"Stray baseball," Stiles admitted.

"I could see a baseball doing that, but how would you explain the bruise on your side?" Scott asked.

"I don't know, that's why I'm not telling him," Stiles replied.

"What if he walks in on you while you're getting dressed?" Scott asked.

"I haven't thought that far," Stiles admitted.

"Are you still auditioning for the Glee club tonight?" Scott asked changing the subject.

"Yeah, it'll give me more time to spend with Quinn, who is my girlfriend," Stiles said.

"You told me that," Scott said smiling.

"And we kissed," Stiles said getting a goofy grin on his face.

"You told me that too," Scott said chuckling as he put his arm around Stiles's neck. "Come on, we better get back to class before Mr. Harris gives you anymore detentions."

After school Stiles found himself standing awkwardly in front of the Glee club. He saw Finn glaring at him. Kurt Hummel was sitting there confused at Finn's expressions, and he could tell half of the rest of Glee club were staring at his black and blue mark.

"Stiles, where'd you get that black and blue mark on your chin?" Mr. Schue, the Glee club director asked.

"A ball came up and smacked me in the mouth," Stiles said. Hopefully they assumed it was because of lacrosse or something. He looked over at Finn who was still glaring at him. He wondered what story Finn came up with for his black and blue marks. Since his Dad hadn't rushed out on a call about Derek Hale means he didn't tell the truth.

"Okay, well, you may start when you are ready," Mr. Schue said as he sat next to Rory Flanagan the foreign exchange student from Ireland, he was in Stiles' Spanish class and he must say the kid's accent fascinated him. Anyway, Stiles began singing as the piano guy started to play.

_Oh I could hide 'neath the wings of the bluebird as she sings_

_The six O'clock alarm would never ring_

_But it rings and I rise, wipe the sleep out of my eyes_

_My shaving razor's cold and it stings_

_Cheer up, Sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a day dream believer and a homecoming queen?_

_You once thought of me as white knight upon a steed_

_Now you know how happy I can be_

_Oh, and our good time starts and ends_

_With a dollar one to spend_

_But how much baby do we really need?_

_Cheer up, Sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a day dream believer and a homecoming queen?_

_Cheer up, Sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a day dream believer and a homecoming queen?_

_Cheer up, Sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a day dream believer and a homecoming queen?_

_Cheer up, Sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a day dream believer and a homecoming queen?_

_Cheer up, Sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a day dream believer and a homecoming queen?_

The whole time he sang the song he looked at Quinn. He saw Rachel poking Quinn with her elbow and smiled a bit knowing the gist of what the two girls were whispering about.

"Wow, Stiles, you were really good, welcome to the Glee club," Mr. Schue said standing up and shaking Stiles' hand. "Pick a seat," he added. Stiles went and sat between Quinn and Rachel, he looked over to see Finn glaring at him. Stiles wondered briefly if Finn was going to punch him again. Doesn't Stiles have enough bruises already? The one on his side still was sore, it hurt the whole way through his song because of the breaths he had to take. He hoped the soreness would soon go away.

Later that night Stiles was just hanging out, doing some homework in his room all by himself. His lights started to flicker and he looked up to see what was going on. It was hard to do homework when the lights kept flickering. When he looked up he jumped back to see a dark cloud coming at him. He opened his mouth to scream but the scream was stifled when the cloud shoved its way down his throat. He fell to the floor as he tried to get away from the cloud but it was too late. He felt a presence take over his mind and he felt his body sat up even though he wasn't ready to sit up. He didn't feel the pain from his bruise anymore which was odd; a minute ago it was hurting like crazy. But every sensation felt a bit distant to him, like he wasn't quite there. Stiles realized a demon took over his body, how could this have happened?

The demon stood up as Stiles' bedroom door opened and in walked his dad. "Stiles, are you okay? I heard a thud," the Sheriff said.

"I'm fine, Dad, I just fell out of bed," the demon said with Stiles' voice.

"You are quite the clutz lately, I'm going to my shift I'll be back in the morning," Sheriff Stilinski said as he walked back out of the room. The demon smiled as the door closed again. This was going to be fun, this kid knew a hunter and several werewolves. He was going to have fun in this town. But first he needed to do something. He waltzed out to the to the kitchen and grabbed a paring knife and he carved a symbol on the inside of Stiles arm where it could easily be hidden. He washed off the knife and put it back and went back into Stiles' and started to plan what he was going to do to shake things up in this little town.

**A/N: Stiles doesn't catch a break does he? Now he's possessed by a demon. My my….hopefully the demon doesn't ride him too hard.**


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**AN: Jules.**

**I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Life got all stressful and crazy! Please forgive me for this super overdue chapter. I'll try to make it extra-long in repentance. (And maybe with some Rachel/Derek-ness. Halberry-ness. =) )**

**Side note, I'm typing this on my new laptop! No more desktop only for me! It's a little bitty baby HP, but I only plan on using it really for internet and typing when not at home and able to get on my desktop.**

**I also got new filters for my lens, which makes me happy. (I'm a photographer, if I've never mentioned. And a journalist and novelist and a very slow fanfiction updater…..)**

**I've discovered, via Instagram and Tumblr, that I apparently have cute feet, and people love them. I've never thought about my feet as cute before, so this was an interesting revelation, worth sharing with you all.**

**No, this excessive AN is** _**not** _ **part of the hopeful extra-long-ness. (Did that make sense?)**

**Heart's Fate and findmywaybacktoyou, once again, you're my awesome two reviewers AND you BOTH knew that Tess, Kyle, and Parker all came from Roswell! I was sitting eyelevel with my season dvds when I was writing that, and I had to. =)**

**I'm going to stop babbling now, except to say,** _**thank you.** _ **To my beautiful two reviewers above, as well as all the people alerting this funky little story of Kayla's and mine. Thank you.**

**Where did we leave Ms. Berry, hm? Glee, I believe. Guess you'll have to scroll and find out.**

**Go.**

Rachel knew she must be _beaming._ Stiles could sing. Already she was planning songs for him, duets with Quinn, harmonizing with Noah, maybe even an a cappella number with all of the boys, a la their Madonna song a couple of years ago.

In her excitement, she managed to miss Finn's growing ire throughout the Glee meeting. She never saw the way he glared at Stiles' arm around Quinn, or the way he bristled when Noah tossed her jacket on her shivering, slushie stained body. She even missed the outright "what the fuck?" he muttered when he caught sight of the hickey she wasn't aware Derek left on the back of her neck.

She didn't miss him grabbing her already bruised arm on her way out of the choir room, nor did she miss him pulling her back into said room with a quick, violent jerk.

"Finn, get off my arm." She was calm, pulling her arm from his grasp quickly and efficiently. Now that they were alone, and not in a crowded hall, she could fight back—no one would see that she had skills no other ingénue has.

He blinked at her stupidly, obviously not sure how she had done that. She rolled her eyes and went back to the door pulling it open and walking out…into a chest. She looked up, smiling at Noah as he closed the choir room door in Finn's face, both missing the flinch when Noah spoke.

"God, he won't give up, will he? Everything good, my little Jewish American Princess?"

"Perfectly fine, Noah, thank you. I presume you are chauffeuring me home?"

"Givin' you a ride, babe, yeah." He all but growled. "I ain't no chauffeur."

She laughed as they made their way to his truck, waving goodbye to their friends. She was so engrossed in telling Noah about her ideas for songs for Stiles' to sing, she completely missed the black Camaro Scott got into, and the hard red gaze of the driver.

The ride home was uneventful, Noah dropping her off with a smirk before leaving to go pick up his little sister. She made her way into her empty house that was…apparently not so empty.

Stiles and Quinn were in their now usual spots on her couch, And Allison was perched on Scott's lap in the recliner. She could hear Santana singing in the kitchen, and Brittany asking questions about…something. She turned the corner to see who the blonde girl was talking to, dropping her backpack on the floor.

Derek looked quite confused—like he wasn't sure if Brittany was real or a very strange hallucination. She had that effect on people.

Scott gasped, before laughing and high-fiving Stiles. Everyone looked at them in confusion.

He shrugged, still grinning. "Sorry. But…Derek just _smiled._ "

"Brittany," Stiles said, "you are a miracle worker. I bow before your awesomeness." And, removing his arm from Quinn's shoulders, he got onto his knees and bowed, laughing as Stiles and Allison did the same.

Santana came up behind her. "Berry, what the hell is up with the food in this house? There's, like, nothing with sugar."

Rachel had been unnoticed by the group up until this point, but at Santana's words everyone turned to face her.

"You're just looking in the wrong place, Santana. Try the den." She pointed the Latina in the right direction of the secret sugar stash, arching a brow at the others. "Two questions. What are you all doing here, how did you get in, and how did you beat me here?" She paused, smiling at herself. "Make that three questions."

"Well," Stiles began, "We're here to hang out, but my dad is home, Scott's mom is home, Derek's house is uninhabitable to anyone but him, and Quinn's mom is scary."

"We don't really know why the Cheerios are here," Scott added.

"We go in with my key," Quinn said, "and we beat you here because Puckerman drives super slow if you, his sister, his mother, or I am in the car."

Rachel smiled at that. "Yeah, he's adorable that way. So what are we doing while hanging out here this lovely afternoon?"

Quinn grabbed her arm and pulled her down next to her on the couch. "I don't know about them," the blonde began, grabbing the remote, "but I'm going to watch _Dark Angel_ reruns on SyFy."

"Oh, is it a marathon?"

Quinn nodded, laughing, and the two girls settled in, alternating between watching the show and watching their friends. Scott was attempting to explain Go Fish—the Scott and Rachel way, of course—to Allison, Santana was still missing in the den, Stiles was laughing at Derek and Derek…well, Brittany was trying to convince Derek that what Lord Tubbington really needed was a good, strong, "mail" role model, and the bills her parents kept getting weren't cutting it. He looked both fascinated and very alarmed, Rachel was quite amused to note.

They stayed together for a couple of hours, relaxed and getting to know each other better. The girls fought about their Dark Angel ships (Rachel and Santana were both surprised to find that they agreed on Alec over Logan) and the guys talked about…honestly, Rachel wasn't sure because she tuned them out. She thinks it might have been about Jessica Alba's butt.

Stiles left first, moaning about homework. Quinn left with him, squeezing Rachel up in a hug as she said goodbye.

Brittany and Santana followed, their giggling and kisses explaining everything for them.

Scott, Derek and Allison hung around a bit longer, the boy discussing rebuild projects for the Hale house while Rachel showed Allison some of her weapons.

Eventually they left too, and Rachel closed the front door, heading into the living room to start cleaning up. She had just picked up Quinn's abandoned glass when she felt a warm breath ease across the back of her neck, making the hairs stand up. The glass fell when the breath was replaced by a slick tongue sliding across it, inches below her hairline.

She felt Derek's smirk across her neck as he leaned forward, catching the falling—and thankfully _empty_ —glass before it hit the ground. She tried to turn to face him as he set the glass on the coffee table, but his free arm wrapped around her quickly, holding her in place. He leaned down to put his lips next to her head, his breath warming her ear.

"Why are both you and Stiles more bruised than when I last left you?" he asked, voice low and even. She wondered if his eyes were red. "Is high school that violent now?"

She couldn't help the laughing snort that escaped. "You have no idea," she told him, silently replaying the slushie attack that had happened just today. She was curious when he'd notice how red her clothes were.

"But," she amended, "it wasn't school. Stiles sort of…" she trailed off, unsure how to phrase it without getting the boy in trouble. "Stiles stumbled across me hunting and thought I was in trouble, so he came to rescue me. I didn't need it, but it was very sweet of him."

"Hunting." He said it as a statement, but she knew it was meant as a question.

"A ghost. A slightly angry ghost. Who liked to throw people telepathically."

His arm fell away from her body, and her back felt cold as he back away, sitting heavily in the chair behind him.

"There are ghosts?" he looked up at her, as if wishing she would suddenly laugh and yell "just kidding!"

"Yup. There are ghosts. Pretty easy to get rid of, generally, except when it…isn't." She smiled slightly, biting the corner of her lip.

He looked up at her again as she turned to finish cleaning. His arms shot out and his hands grabbed her hips, pulling her down onto his lap, lips sliding slowly across the side of her neck.

"Did the ghost also make you red and," he sniffed her, "cherry smelling?"

"Um. Well. No. No, that was not the ghost." She tried to stand, put his arms clamped around her hips and waist, holding her against him.

* * *

She was wiggling and on his lap. Derek fought to control himself—he wasn't some fourteen year old, he should be able to control his hormones long enough to figure out why Rachel looked and smelled like a cherry.

"Rachel."

She stopped trying to get up, unconsciously leaning against him, much to the wolf's pleasure.

"It's this thing they do," she started, refusing to look at him.

"They?" he growled out. If someone had hurt her…

"Some of the student body have this practice of volleying flavored crushed ice at the more unpopular of their peers." She beamed up at him, shrugging.

"That is the fakest smile I've ever seen. Now tell me again in English."

The show smile fell, and she looked down at her hands.

"They throw slushies."

"At you?"

"At me, and most of the other members of Glee. Usually me." She shrugged again. "I'm not very well-liked among my peers."

Derek found himself pushing some hair from her eyes and tenderly kissing her temple. "I like you," he said. "And now you're going to give me names so I can tear them all to pieces."

Her brown eyes widened as she looked up at him, already shaking her head. "No."

"Yes," he ground out. He was barely controlling the wolf at this point, and both sides of him were in agreement—slushie throwers were on his hit list.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Tell me."

"No."

He growled at her, frustrated. He just wanted to protect her. Why couldn't she just cooperate?

"Don't you growl at me, Mr. alpha wolf. I've faced bigger and badder and your little growl does not scare me."

He growled again, taking a deep breath in and…he smirked. Growled again just to be sure. The growling may not scare her, but it was definitely having an effect.

He tightened his grip, pulling her flush against him, and growled into her ear.

"Tell me who, baby."

"No," she whispered. "Not a good…" he swiped his tongue along the shell of her ear, biting down gently on the lobe, making her breath hitch. "…idea. Not a good idea at all."

He opened his mouth to answer, but found her mouth pressed against his instead. The surprise made him loosen his grip and she turned so she was straddling his thighs, their chests pushed together.

The surprise passed, Derek quickly took control, pushing her hips down to slide against his with one hand, the other snaking up the back of her shirt. The hand on her hip slid around to her ass as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, teasing hers. He felt the bottom of her skirt and grinned into her mouth. He had had some very interesting fantasies about the tiny skirts she wore.

She groaned, grinding into him as his mouth left hers, moving down her neck, sucking and nipping. He found his earlier mark and licked it, baring his teeth as he sucked on the spot, reforming it.

She was sliding her small, warm hands up his chest, under his shirt, scratching lightly as she panted out his name.

He pulled away from her neck, surveying his work with a satisfaction. Smiling smugly, he found her lips again and growled when she bit his bottom lip. He could feel her heat as his hand wrapped around her thigh, shifting her up so she rested directly over his lap. She ground herself down over him, and he grinned at the gasp she let out as she felt how hard he was through his jeans.

Maybe he would just destroy the all the slushie machines in town.

* * *

Rachel finished her shower, humming happily. This afternoon had been, to quote Noah, "awesome." Hanging out with her _friends_ was fun and relaxing and new. It made her feel so…normal.

And then Derek made her feel so…not normal. In the best way possible. All they did was make out, but it was still amazing. He had talent, and he didn't pressure her into anything, like Finn used to try to do.

So they only made out. But if they ever went further, God…she wasn't sure she'd be able to control herself.

She dried off and got dressed—ever since Derek showed up in her room a couple of nights ago, she'd been dressing in her bathroom post-shower. And after today, she wasn't sure she wouldn't just drop the towel and let him have his way if he appeared again.

Really, dressing in the bathroom was the safest way to go.

She finished up, rubbing her hair dry vigorously. She shut her bathroom light off, and opened the door, almost jumping when she saw Derek.

"Couldn't stay away?" she asked him, moving quietly to where he sat on the bed.

He just smirked, kissing her soundly on the mouth and pushing her back to lie against the bed. He hovered over her, kissing her again before rolling over next to her and wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Sleep, Rachel."

And she did, warm and safe in the werewolf's arms.

* * *

She woke up alone, but she honestly wasn't expecting different.

She hopped out of bed, bypassing her elliptical machine for her closet. She was in too good of a mood this morning to work-out. Pulling on a black skirt and some ballet flats, she flipped through her blouses, pulling out a plain blue-green top that coincidentally matched Derek's eyes. When he wasn't wolfing out, of course.

She wandered down stairs, making herself some breakfast. When she finished she went to the piano in the music room, practicing her song for Mr. Shue's assignment. The man had decided to have them sing songs about any repressed feelings—sadly his most original idea in years, but still so very overdone. She chose Kelly Clarkson's _Dark Side_. She found it ironically relevant to her life.

She rehearsed until it was time to go. Grabbing her bag, her phone, and her keys, she locked the front door behind her, turning to see a black Camaro idling in her driveway.

Derek was sitting in the driver's seat, and the sight of him in his dark sunglasses and leather jacket sent shivers down her back and warm tingles shooting through her stomach and below.

She wandered around to the passenger side, smiling at him.

"Hello," she said, sliding into his car. She grinned. "Your car is kind of sexy."

He laughed, and she jumped, looking at him in mild alarm. She'd never heard him laugh before. She schooled her face into a smile when he looked at her, shaking her head and telling him to drive her to school "already, before you make me late."

They were almost to the school when she finally spoke. "Don't think I don't know what this is."

He gave her a quick look, obviously amused.

"You," she continued, "are just hoping to find someone to inflict some sort of violence on. You won't though. You can't come in." She grinned, as he pulled up to the curb, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. The turned to get out but he pulled her back, smashing her mouth against his. She kissed him for another minute or so before pulling away breathlessly.

"I have to go now." She kissed him one last time and jumped out of the car, knocking the door shut with her hip. She turned and waved, before heading inside to her locker.

She smiled when she saw Quinn there, but the smile fell as she got closer. Quinn looked crushed. Rachel reached her and opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but Quinn beat her to it.

"Stiles is acting really weird," she practically _cried_ out. "He was supposed to pick me up this morning, but he never showed, and then he ignored me when I tried to talk to him."

Rachel leaned in and hugged her, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's probably nothing, just a bad day."

Quinn nodded as the bell rang, and the two girls headed off to class.

* * *

Rachel studied Stiles all day. Quinn was right, he was acting very strange. But not normal boy strange. This…this was something else. _And_ , she decided as she watched Quinn's face fall when Stiles walked past her again, _she was going to find out what it is and fix it._


	21. Chapter Twenty

* * *

**A/N: We forgive Jules for the long wait. That chapter was amazing. Now let's see if my chapter will be as amazing. And I'm sorry for being the one to make you wait so long, I've been busy with work lately.**

* * *

Stiles blacked out several times while the demon was controlling him. He didn't remember his Dad coming home at all, or how he got to school. But he was awake to see Quinn's crushed look when the demon walked right past her, not even acknowledging her existence. But there wasn't anything he could do to stop the demon. Stiles had no control what's so ever.

Scott noticed Stiles ignoring Quinn which he thought was strange. He walked over to his best friend to see what was up.

"Hey, dude, why have you been ignoring Quinn all day?" Scott asked. Stiles looked at Scott and gave him a once over and gave him a smirk.

"Have I? I didn't notice," Stiles said in a flat tone.

"Dude, you looked at her then you just walked away without saying a word," Scott said.

"It's nothing, I'm just tired, I'll make it up to here later," Stiles said.

"Well, she's over talking to Rachel right now, why don't you go talk to her now?" Scott said, he was confused as to why his best friend was acting this way. Was the pressure of being surrounded by werewolves and hunters finally getting to him? "Stiles, go talk to her now, or you may lose her," Scott said when he saw Stiles just look at Quinn and then looked back at his locker. Again when Stiles didn't move Scott slammed Stiles's locker shut and pushed him over to the girls.

"Hey, Scott, Stiles, what's up?" Rachel said, Quinn didn't say anything but looked hopefully at Stiles.

"I'm sorry I was a lousy boyfriend earlier, Quinn, I don't know why I wasn't talking," Stiles said in a uncharacteristically flat tone. Scott looked confused at Stiles and then met Rachel's gaze. He could tell she saw something was up with Stiles. "Why don't you two talk it out and Scott and I will head this way," Rachel said as she pulled Scott out of Stiles's earshot. They were close enough to keep an eye on the two but far enough away that their conversation wouldn't be over heard.

"Have you noticed Stiles has been acting weird today?" Rachel asked.

Scott nodded. "He smells different, I'm not sure how to describe, but he smells different," he admitted, his wolf senses picked up on Stiles different odor right away this morning, but he figure his best friend ate something weird for breakfast again.

"What did he smell like?" Rachel asked.

"Rotten eggs to be honest," Scott said.

"I think I may know what we're dealing with, but I'm going to need your help to test it out," Rachel said as Scott looked at her confused.

**A/N: Ooh, they may be piecing it together. But will it be that easy to get rid of it? Watch this space to find out. Sorry it's short though I lost my muse several times during this.**


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**AN: Jules I am, I am Jules. However will Rachel test Stiles, hmm? I guess you might, maybe find out in this chapter. But, honestly, the chapters write themselves with minimal direction from me, so who knows? I am controlled by the characters. 0.o**

**As always, my beautiful two reviewers, Heart's Fate and findmywaybacktoyou, I love you both, thank you for sticking with us while I was dealing with reality. It was no fun and I missed you both dearly.**

**Thanks also to our alerts and follows, you rock, feel free to drop a line, we don't bite-unless you either ask, or it's a full moon. ;)**

**So let's see where we'll go here….**

**Go.**

* * *

_Maybe I'm wrong,_ Rachel thought to herself, watching Stiles from across the cafeteria. _I hope I'm wrong._

He was sitting, strangely enough, with Finn, the two deep in conversation and both looking furious. Frowning, she turned to Scott, nudging the wolf's arm.

"Hey, can you hear them?" She tipped her head towards Stiles and Finn, trying not to draw Quinn's attention. The blonde was being distracted by Brittany, who hated to see anyone sad and was regaling Quinn with tales of her adventures. Rachel tried hard not to listen, because if she did she had a feeling she'd need to report Brittany for child endangerment of her babysitting charges, among other things.

Scott turned to look, first at Rachel, then across the cafeteria, tilting so his ear leaned towards the two boys. His eyes flashed yellow, and Allison shifted onto his lap to block them from the members of their lunch group not privy to the world of werewolves.

"Stiles is saying something about a job," he said low and quiet, keeping his voice to a murmur so only Rachel and Allison could hear. "Finn is saying Stiles is going to get in the way, and that this is from higher up than…something. A name. Stiles says this has nothing to do with her, but that finn is taking too long, so maybe…he'll do it for him and…gain…something. Sorry, they keep going in and out. I mean, Stiles knows I'm a werewolf, he knows I can hear him."

"But whatever is inside him might not," Rachel sighed. "Are they saying anything else?"

Scott shook his head, looking over around Allison's shoulder. "No. They're both gone."

Rachel looked over, biting her lip. The table was indeed empty. She ran a hand through her hair, watching the space.

"Well, shit."

* * *

Quinn reread the text on her phone.

_My house. After school. Nobody tell Stiles, bring Stiles or talk to Stiles. AVOID STILES. Will explain. –Rachel*_

She got into her mom's car, trying to ignore Stiles' jeep across the parking lot. She put it in drive and heading for Rachel's, sincerely hoping that this would be about his strange behavior and that Rachel would be able to fix it. She worried the whole way to Rachel's, finally pulling in behind Allison's car and Derek's Camaro.

Walking right in, she stopped short in the doorway to the living room.

"Woah."

There were books covering every available surface, barring where bodies sat watching Rachel scramble through books rapidly, making notes and setting some aside.

"Is this where you disappeared to after lunch, Rach? Because…woah."

She went to pick one of the books up, a leather bound volume that was bigger than her AP English book and her honors history combined.

"Don't touch it." Rachel demanded, not looking up. Quinn retracted her hand. "That particular book requires a Latin password because some bloody witch in the 14th century cursed it to burn whenever touched."

"Oh." Quinn stepped away, eyeing the book cautiously. "What are we doing, Rach? And why couldn't we tell Stiles? Not that he's talking to me, but you know what I mean."

"Because Stiles isn't Stiles." Rachel finally looked up, scowling and obviously stressed. "At least, not at the moment. I can get him back, though, in theory."

"Is this where we test him?" Scott asked, playing absentmindedly with the ends of Allison's hair. "Because you still haven't told me how I can help you with that."

"Oh, that? That's going to be the easy part. It's fixing it that will be a little more difficult." She stood p and stretched, surveying the books around her. "We're gonna need space." With that, she picked up a pile of books and left the room, setting the top book on a table in the hall en route. She dropped the books on the kitchen table and called over her shoulder.

"Feel free to help! All the books in here, all the furniture in the living room pushed against the wall. And the weapons in easy reach." She passed Allison and Quinn hauling books and scooped up the last pile and a half, dropping them in the kitchen.

Grabbing the book from the hall, she opened it somewhere in the middle, at a ribbon of a bookmark and walked back into the living room, placing the can of salt she had grabbed from the kitchen on an end table. She looked up. The furniture was pushed against the far wall, leaving the majority of the room clear. She surveyed her weapons—the one's that had been hidden in her living room anyway. She pulled a wicked looking serrated knife from the pile and slid it into the holster under the back of her shirt, removing the one she had been wearing during school. Quinn's eyes widened.

"Did you have that all day?"

Rachel smiled shyly at her. "Well my gun is kind of obvious." She pulled said gun out and strapped the holster around her thigh, turning to Scott.

"Call Stiles. Tell him to come over. Whatever you think will get this not-Stiles to get here, say it. But be normal. Do not let him know you something is up with him. Okay?"

Scott nodded, heading out of the room, cell phone to his ear. Allison stood and walked over to stand next her.

"May I?"

Rachel nodded and Allison glanced over the weaponry, picking up a curved knife and a small crossbow.

"Just in case," she shrugged. "Not that I know what exactly we're doing."

Rachel smiled in response as Scott came back in.

"He's on his way."

"Good. Stand there." She pointed, directing the others as he moved. They were all now positioned back by the furniture, well away from the middle of the room.

And they waited, Rachel obsessively rereading the book in her hands while the others stood around confused.

Finally Derek, who had been silent the entire afternoon thus far, spoke. "What is going on, exactly?"

Quinn looked up at him. "Stiles. He's acting strange."

"Since when?"

"Well, this morning." She said it matter of fact and Derek's eyes narrowed, making the girl-wolf lower her eyes slightly.

"I wasn't in school with him all day, remember?"

She nodded shyly and Rachel reached over and slapped the back of his head gently.

"She is not part of your pack, do not make her submit to you. I will beat your ass."

He growled lightly in response, cutting himself off suddenly and turning his head towards the window, Scott doing the same next to Quinn.

Some moments later, Rachel heard it too—the unmistakable rumble of Stiles' jeep.

"Scott, get him in here. Right there." She nodded at the center of the room. "But don't get within arms reach, okay?"

Scott agreed, confused, but headed for the door, opening it and greeting Stiles with a surprising normality. The two boys entered the room, Scott a few feet back and watching Stiles warily from behind.

Stiles stopped in the middle, a sardonic expression gracing his features. "This is a strange arrangement," he said.

Rachel smiled humorlessly. "Cristo."

Quinn gasped, her and Allison stepping back while Derek began growling, low and threatening. Stiles' eyes were completely, utterly, black.

He snarled, and even Scott backed away, eyes flashed yellow, teeth bared.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Derek snarled out, moving to stand in front of the three girls.

"He isn't him, that's what's wrong. That's not Stiles anymore. Are you?"

Not-Stiles gave an evil smirk, stalking forward until he no longer could. He hit an invisible barrier, the smile melting off his face as his hand came up to smack the unseen wall.

"Devil's Trap. It's a pain, huh?" She reached up and flicked the lights off, looking up at the ceiling. Not-Stiles followed her gaze, hissing out a curse as he took in the glowing circle, pentagram and symbols that made up a Devil's Trap. "Glow in the dark paint."

"You little hunter bitch," he spat out as she flicked the lights back on.

"That's what they call me," she quipped. "What do they call you?"

"Rachel, what is it?" Quinn asked.

"A demon. Stiles is possessed by a demon. And I would very much like to know said demon's name," she directed at him.

"I'm sorry, a demon?" Allison shook her head. "No. No way. There's…I mean, my dad's never…"

Rachel smiled at her sadly, opening the book back up again. "There are a couple of different exorcisms I can do, but I'm going to go for the long one, because I want to make sure this thing is fully out of Stiles, no shortcuts. I would prefer to know your name," she glared at the demon-inhabited Stiles, "and why you're in our friend, but I'd really like to get this over with and banish you back to hell."

She looked down, and began to read aloud.

* _Regna terrae, cantate Deo,_ _psallite Domino_ _qui fertis super caelum_ _caeli ad Orientem_ _Ecce dabit voci Suae_ _vocem virtutis,_ _tribuite virtutem Deo._

 _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ _omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio_ _infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,_ _omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._

 _Ergo draco maledicte_ _et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te._ _cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_ _eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._

She stopped when the demon started laughing.

"It's not working." She said, eyes wide. "What did you do? Why isn't it…what did you do?"

* * *

**AN: So…its not working. Hm. Ah, exorcisms….well, there's two parts. So, if you're not up to par on your SpN lore, Rachel knew it wasn't working because the first part of an exorcism expels the demon from the body and the second part sends the demon to hell. Nothing was happening, and when she combined that with the demon laughing at her attempts, she knew that something was wrong. Hope you enjoyed, sorry about the lack of Derek/Halberry love, but this was sort of a Stiles centric and Rachel's supernatural knowledge centric chapter.**

***This exorcism is the** **Rituale Romanum** **taken from: . ?title=Exorcism**

**Full Exorcism (as Rachel stopped herself because it wasn't working…):**

_Regna terrae, cantate Deo,_ _psallite Domino_ _qui fertis super caelum_ _caeli ad Orientem_ _Ecce dabit voci Suae_ _vocem virtutis,_ _tribuite virtutem Deo._

 _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ _omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio_ _infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,_ _omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._

 _Ergo draco maledicte_ _et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te._ _cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_ _eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._

 _Vade, Satana, inventor et magister_ _omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis._ _Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,_ _contremisce et effuge, invocato a_ _nobis sancto et terribili nomine,_ _quem inferi tremunt._

 _Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine._ _Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias_ _libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos._ _Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris,_ _te rogamus, audi nos._

 _Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae_ _te rogamus, audi nos._ _Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo._ _Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem_ _et fortitudinem plebi Suae._ _Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri._


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**A/N: sorry for this taking so long, it's been kind of a crazy week. First I kind of ran into a telephone pole with my car and then DirecTV went and took a way MTV away from me so I have to wait to watch Teen Wolf. And just work stuff. But here it is.**

* * *

Not-Stiles smiled again. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Scott could believe it. A demon was possessing his best friend.

Scott felt himself get angry. He knew his eyes were flashing yellow as he snarled at non-Stiles. "What the fuck did you do?" he growled.

"I just gave your buddy Stiles here a new scar," non-Stiles said lifting up the sleeve of Stiles's shirt and Scott saw a weird mark on there.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It's a binding link, to lock the demon inside," Rachel said.

"How do we get rid of it?" Allison asked staring at Stiles.

"Well, we're going to have to burn it so it's broken," Rachel admitted reluctantly. "It's going to hurt like hell for Stiles when we get the demon out of him." She already put the poker in the fire. "Derek, Scott, why don't you grab a hold of him, keep him still." Scott grabbed the arm the link was on and Derek grabbed the other. Good thing they both had the strength of the wolf, otherwise they wouldn't be able to hold Stiles in place. The demon being in him made him strong, almost stronger than Scott and Derek themselves.

Rachel approached them with the hot poker in her hand. Scott held out Stiles' arm so she could lay it across the link. The demon didn't make a noise as Rachel held it on making sure to break the link. Scott looked over to see Quinn hiding her face and Allison was standing there trying to comfort her. Rachel pulled the poker off and threw it by the fire place, she then went back to her book and finished the exorcism spell. Scott watch her as she did and felt a bit afraid of her. She had a determined look on her face that said she would take no nonsense from things like what was in Stiles. He made a quick mental note to not get on the bad side of Rachel Berry.

As Rachel finished the incantation Scott watched black smoke leave Stiles' mouth and it disappeared back to hell, where it belonged. Stiles fell limp in Derek and Scott's grasp. Scott quickly grabbed Stiles and laid him on the couch. "Is he going to be okay?" Scott asked.

"I think he will be, the demon didn't ride him to hard; some people have it worse," Rachel explained. Quinn was kneeling beside the unconscious Stiles checking his vitals. Scott could she was crying be he didn't know what to do. Allison came over and nuzzled into his neck and he held her in his arms.

Stiles was aware he was laying somewhere. He felt a pain on his arm and could feel a blanket covering him. He could again feel the soreness from his encounter with the ghost the other night. Not wanting to open his eyes he groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, hoping he could stay there forever.

"Stiles?" he heard Scott's voice say. He groaned again and pushed the blanket away from his head. He opened his eyes and was about to say what when he saw Quinn, Rachel, Allison, Scott, and even Derek all staring at him. He looked around and saw he was at Rachel's house, on her couch. He shot up and immediately regretted it because pain shot through his torso from his bruises.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"What do you remember from last night and today?" Rachel asked.

"Well, last thing I remember I was doing my homework and now I'm here," Stiles said looking confused at why Rachel asked that.

"Stiles, um, you were possessed by a demon," Quinn said quietly. Stiles stared at her not knowing what to say.

"Did I hurt anyone?" he asked.

"No," Scott said. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God!" he said, he suddenly felt very tired again so he sat back again the back of the couch not knowing what to say. Quinn curled up beside him on the couch and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're you again," she whispered kissing him on the cheek.

**Yeah, I'm not sure how good this is but I'm lacking creativity right now. Dammit, I just want to watch the new episode of Teen Wolf…sorry…ha ha..I hope you enjoy it.**

 


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**AN: Jules. Though some people spell it Jewels….take your pick. Lol.**

**Obviously, Rachel has some 'splaining to do. Whatever will she say? For those up on their SpN lore, this chapter might bore you, but I also might adjust things to fit this world, and, as this is fanfiction, I'm allowed to do that. ;) Also, SpN is canon up to Sam getting his soul back, so mid-season six.**

**Thank you to my beautiful reviewers, we aim to please. The review for last chapter, however, was "Guest," though it sounded like one of you two… Heart's Fate? Findmywaybacktoyou? Was it one of you? =P Anyway, thank you thank you thank you.**

**Any tumblr people out there? I'll let Kayla tell you her user if she wants, but if you feel the urge to follow me, look under** _**redsphotographicwonderland** _ **, kay? Feel free to drop a line and say you're a reader!**

**By the way, did no one wonder what was up with Finn and Stiles in chapter 21? I think some of you might need to go reread, because I was sort of expecting questions about that…**

**And now, go, because what you really want is below…go, go.**

* * *

Rachel stood in the kitchen, filling a glass with water for Stiles. She had her eyes closed, letting the quiet murmur of her friends voices sooth her nerves. She was pretending that none of that happened. That Stiles had not been possessed by a demon. That she had not burned his arm with a hot poker. That she hadn't brought this insanity into their lives. She shut off the tap and sighed. Time to face the music.

Grabbing one of the books from the pile on the kitchen table, she made her way slowly to the living room. Derek and Scott had put the room back together, and the group was scattered around in what had apparently become _their_ spots. Scott and Allison were curled together in the far recliner, her soothing him quietly as her nuzzled his face sweetly in her neck. Quinn was sitting Indian-style on one end of the couch with Stiles' head in her lap, his body sprawled out along the rest of the couch. Derek was in the closer recliner, watching her with those eyes. His body language was telling her to curl up in him, to let him comfort her and keep her safe. But she knew she didn't deserve his comfort, the safety and contentment she found in his muscled arms. She had put Stiles in this position, and she had put them all in danger.

She turned away to sit in the center of the room, in front of the TV, centered between them all. She didn't deserve comfort, but they at least deserved answers.

She looked at the book in her hand. Small and think, it was bound in leather and was the singularly most important thing in her possession. She had promised to keep it safe while the boys were going through their… _soul search_ …and it gave her the strength that the encounter with the demon had sapped from her.

She looked up at her friends. "So. Obviously I've been…withholding some information."

Stiles snorted from his position on Quinn's lap. "I think that's an understatement, Rach. By the way, that was no fun and I don't want to do it again."

"Well, I could arrange that, but it would involve fake ids, and good ones. Not those crappy ones you and Scott got from the guy who lives in the alley by the bike shop."

"They're not crappy," Scott pouted.

"Not the point, sweetie," Allison cut in. "So, Rachel….demons? I mean, I know my dad has hidden a lot of things from me, but I don't think he would've hidden _that._ "

"Yep. Demons. They're incorporeal, so they possess a body, preferably _alive_...actually, I'm not sure if they can possess a dead body. I've never heard of any trying." She stared longingly towards the direction of her lovely book pile, equally desiring to get out of this conversation and to look up whether demons can possess the dead.

"Rachel."

Derek's voice snapped her out of her reverie and she turned away from his raised eyebrow to look at her hands again. She wasn't sure why he hadn't already attacked her-she had put his pack in danger and as alpha, he couldn't abide by that.

"They possess people. For different reasons, of course, but a good majority just prefers Earth to hell, which isn't surprising." She shrugged, locking eyes with Quinn, who was biting her lip. "I've heard stories. There's only two ways to kill them and one doesn't work anymore. Generally you just have to exorcise them. First remove them from the host body and then send them back to hell."

There was an awkward pause and Rachel fidgeted, looking anywhere but at them.

"Tell them about wendigoes, Rach. Because I think there's one living in the wood off the highway, and the puppies here like running in the woods." Brittany bounced in, ruffling Derek's hair and crashing onto the floor next to Rachel, who was staring at the blonde, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Brittany…what?"

"Wendigoes, Rachel. You know, the creepy things who eat people. It's in the book." She pointed at the leather-bound volume in Rachel's hands, blissfully ignoring the stares and Rachel's sputtering.

Rachel didn't answer, so Brittany pulled the book from the brunette's limp hands and opened it, flipping through the pages.

"That's it, right?" she asked Rachel. "I'm not sure how to spell it."

Rachel nodded slowly, taking the book back when Brittany offered it to her, but didn't read it. "Brittany," she said instead, "how do you know about wendigoes?"

"I saw it," she explained. "Last night, after San left."

"You saw it?"

"Yep. You were kicking ass with the trenchcoat guy, though, so I wasn't worried. But then I thought maybe you didn't know it was there…or it will be there. It's not there yet."

"Brittany…" Rachel trailed off, locking eyes with Quinn who was just as confused. "Are you saying you saw the future?"

Brittany nodded. "I'm a see-er. I thought you knew. But you just didn't know yet."

"Seer. You're a seer." She took a deep breath, thinking about it. It actually made a lot of sense. Brittany had a knack for noticing things no one else did, for pointing out and predicting things. But no one ever believed her because she was so…innocent. She talks about unicorns and thinks her cat can read her diary so why would anyone take the bubbly blonde seriously?

"What else?" she asked her, grabbing a pen and a pad of paper from the mantle.

Brittany shrugged. "Nothing important. Not for right now. Except the moon. Its feeling fat and the puppies will go all crazy."

"What?" Derek asked, watching the girl with interest. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I think it means that the full moon is coming up, right?" At Brittany's nod, Rachel continued. "and the puppies…do you mean them? Derek and Scott?"

Brittany nodded again. "And Quinnie and Rainbow and the slushie thrower and his Santana."

This time is was Scott asking "what?"

"Um…Quinn and Danny?"

"He's like Kurt, but he doesn't have a Blaine."

Rachel nodded. "Yes, yes he is. And I'm assuming Jackson and Lydia."

Brittany stretched in response, smiling. "They're going to go crazy, but they've got you so I don't know why they're worried. Don't they know you're Rachel Berry?"

Rachel leaned over and hugged Brittany. "Thanks Britt," she whispered.

"They still love you, so it's okay," the blonde whispered back. Then she pulled away and spoke louder. "So, Rach, tell us about wendigoes, so the puppies will be prepared."

"Stop calling us that," Derek growled.

Rachel just laughed and told them the wendigo lore, suddenly, fiercely glad that the universe gave them one Brittany S. Pierce.

* * *

Derek stood in the living room of his dilapidated house, waiting. He heard Stiles' jeep pull up first, unsurprising since he left Rachel's house only a half an hour before Scott and Stiles. Then came Danny's car, rolling slowly up the gravel road—as the newest pack member, he was still skittish about the house and continually tried to campaign Derek into moving somewhere less decrepit. Scott opened the front door just as Jackson's Porsche came barreling up the drive, and Derek could smell Lydia's aggravation a mile off.

 _But, really, when wasn't she aggravated?_ He thought with a wry smile, that was quickly replaced with his normal scowl.

Not that it was hard for him to scowl right now. He was not very much not amused, and for a few reasons. He hadn't liked leaving Rachel's, especially since she refused to look at him the majority of the time they were there, beginning at the end of the exorcism. He would have stayed, but there was pack matters that needed to be dealt with. Such as Jackson throwing slushies, as Brittany alluded to. And Rachel's werewolf policy. And the wendigo-thing that may be showing up soon in the forest.

Brittany has said it was on the move, having been forced out of its home by construction, and was headed this way, though she couldn't pinpoint when it would arrived. At least, that's what Rachel translated from Brittany-speak, which was very strange and confusing.

Stiles came in first, rubbing his head with the palm of his hand. Derek tilted his head the human boy, waiting.

"Headache. Rach said its normal and it'll pass."

Derek nods as Danny trails in, tapping away at his phone, followed by Lydia and Jackson, arguing over something petty and ridiculous. Scott came in last, securing the door behind him Derek stayed standing as Scott slid past him, pressing a scrap of paper into the alpha's hands as he past. Derek tucked it into his pocket, turning to face the pack.

Jackson had abandoned Lydia to sprawl on Derek's couch with Danny, leaving the girl to curl up in a chair with a pout on her face. Stiles was stretched out on the floor, alternating rubbing his head and his arm, and Scott….was coming in from the kitchen. The beta wolf held up two ice packs in explanation, handing them both to Stiles, but remaining standing, looking to Derek for direction. Scott usually stayed standing during pack meetings anyway.

Derek cleared his throat, and they all fell silent, eyes turned to him. He shifted his weight. Now that he had their attention, he wasn't sure where to begin—the talking was his least favorite part of being alpha.

"So, we found out some stuff today," Scott saved him. "Like that there's demons, and they can possess people."

Stiles barked out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Demons?"

Derek nodded at Danny, whose eyes were wide.

"Because werewolves wasn't weird enough," Jackson scoffed. "Is he serious?"

"Yes. One possessed Stiles. Rachel had to exorcise it out of him," Derek growled. And burn him and hurt him and then close herself off and be distant and…he took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

"But we'll get to that in a bit. First, Jackson," the boy in question looked up, wary of the underlying growl behind his name. "Have you been throwing slushies at people?"

Jackson blanched and Derek shook his head. "Well…I'm not the only one."

"You're the only one in this pack."

"How do you know?"

Derek arched a brow, turning to Danny. "Danny?"

"Nope."

"Lydia?"

"Ew." She shuddered, made a face. "Those are so gross."

"Okay, Scott?"

"Uh, no. Once you've had one thrown at you, you don't throw them at other people."

Derek gave him a surprised look at this, but continued on—they could talk about that later. "Stiles?"

"No," he moaned out from the floor. "Does anyone have any asprin?"

Scott went to grab some, and Derek turned back to Jackson, staring silently until the younger man caved.

"Yes! Yes, fine. I throw slushies. But not recently."

Derek kept his stare, scowl deepening.

"Okay, yesterday. I threw one yesterday."

Scott came in then, distracted by Stiles. "Rachel got slushied yester…Oh." He looked at Jackson, shrugging. "Sorry."

Jackson, much to Derek's satisfaction, winced.

"200 laps. Human speed. Go."

Jackson stood up slowly, heading for the door.

"Barefoot," Derek added, small humorless smile forming as he heard Jackson remove his socks and shoes, grumbling quietly.

"Moving on," he began, knowing Jackson could hear every word as he ran around the house and yard, "wendigoes."

"Wendi-wha-huhs?" Lydia asked, looking up from where she was filing her nails.

Looking to Scott, the two launched into an explanation on wendigoes, why they were telling them, and why Rachel believed that the wolves were in more danger than the humans—since the wendigo feeds on one person for as long as they can, a werewolf's healing power would be an irresistible discovery for their food source. At least, that's what Rachel believes, not that she told him directly. She looked somewhere around his boots the entire time she talked him, which frustrated Derek and pissed off the wolf. How could they protect her if she hid from them?

He focused back on the conversation, letting his pack's voices and smells calm the wolf down. He'd figure out Rachel later.

* * *

Rachel is not ashamed to admit that she turned and ran when she saw Finn coming down the hall in her direction. After what Scott had overheard yesterday between Finn and Stiles/Not-Stiles, in addition to how strange and potentially violent he's been lately, Rachel just wants to stay clear.

 _Which applies to more than just Finn,_ she decides as she ducks around a corner to avoid Stiles. After everything yesterday, Rachel had a feeling he would probably rather not see her, just as she wanted to avoid seeing him. She was the one who made him so vulnerable to possession and she highly doubted he would want to spend any time with her now. Or Scott and Allison, she added, hurrying down a stairwell when she saw them coming. She wasn't even sure if Quinn would want to see her now, which hurt her heart.

She slipped into the auditorium as the lunch bell rang, heading for the wings off the stage. Derek hadn't even stopped by last night, as she had half-expected him to. Obviously, she was once again that crazy girl with no friends, just waiting for the next slushy.

She sighed, pulling out her lunch and eyeing the piano as she munched on an apple.

Was there a song for this?

 


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

**Kayla here, I was planning on having this up earlier but somehow got to thinking about a plot with a djinn for a roleplay I am in and then of course I got all my great ideas while stuck at work Plus I got a new car yesterday yeah exciting times right now. But I think we are due for a fun chapter right?**

**And if you want to follow me on tumblr I'm British-at-heart91…although I joined a really active roleplay so I get on probably once every couple of days or once a week.**

* * *

Stiles couldn't help but feel like he did something wrong. Rachel kept avoiding him. So during lunch he told Quinn that he'd be right back and he went to find her. First he checked the choir room only to find it was empty. So he walked down to the auditorium and heard someone playing the piano. He snuck in and sat in the back as he watched Rachel sing. When she was done he stood up and started walking towards her clapping his hands.

She jumped and looked towards him. "Oh, hey Stiles," she said turning back towards the piano playing a few notes.

"Hey, Rachel, did we all do something?" he asked sitting down next to her on the piano bench.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked looking at Stiles.

"Well, you've been avoiding us since the whole incident I was just wondering if the demon had me do something that pissed you off," Stiles asked.

"No, not at all, I just thought," Rachel trailed off not wanting to admit that she thought they were all mad at her for bringing this crap into their lives.

"Just thought what?" Stiles asked.

"I just thought that you all were mad at me for bringing this crap into your lives," Rachel said.

"Oh yes, Rachel, you're the one who caused Peter to bite Scott making his crap infiltrate my life and all that," Stiles said sarcastically. "Rachel, if it weren't for you I'd probably be going on a killing spree and having my Dad lock me up in jail for it."

"But if I hadn't be hanging around you the demon probably would have never possessed you," Rachel said.

"Rachel, listen to me, you saved me, you saved innocent people. Come with me," He said grabbing her arm and guiding her to where everybody else was in the cafeteria letting them explain to her why nobody was mad her. As everyone told her she was being way too hard on herself Stiles walked over to Quinn and put his arms around her, she rested her head on his shoulder. He noticed Lydia's eyes narrow at them. What was it about Stiles finally having a girlfriend that made Lydia want him now? If she truly wanted to be with him she had all the chance in the world, especially when he told her to the Winter Formal.

"Hey, Quinn, the boys are over at Scott's house, do you want to surprise them with a visit?," Allison asked Quinn. Allison must admit she was nervous when Scott told her Stiles was dating Quinn, not because Quinn was a werewolf, but because Quinn always reminded Allison of Lydia and Lydia has ignored Stiles for as long as she knew the both of them. But Quinn proved to be a sweet girl Allison could actually get along with better than Lydia.

Allison was about to knock on the door when Scott's mom came out and let her in saying both of them were in Scott's room doing God knows what. As the girls neared the bedroom they heard music blasting from a speaker. They looked at each other and smiled confused. They opened the door to see Scott and Stiles with their backs to the door dancing and singing to Sexy and I Know it. Without making a noise both of the girls pulled out their phones and staring recording the show the boys were putting on.

After the song was over the girls lost it and starting laughing and the guys turned around and blushed as they realized they were being watched.

"Allison, Quinn," Scott said as he turned off the music.

"Nice dance moves," Allison said holding back her laughter as she gave Scott a quick peck on the lips.

Quinn went over and pecked Stiles on the lips as she wrapped her arms around him. "Were you two bored?" She asked Stiles.

"Yes we were," Stiles said. Quinn sneakily sent the video of the boys dancing to Rachel, knowing she'd get a kick out of it.

Kurt Hummel watched as Stiles dragged Rachel to the rest of their group. It was weird seeing Rachel Berry with so many friends. Kurt honestly missed when he was Rachel's best friend, but that changed a while back. And now her new friends were joining Glee, not that Kurt was complaining because Stiles was a good singer, but still.

Kurt wondered what happened between Finn and that group that he came home with the shit beat out of him. Luckily Kurt's Dad and Carol weren't home at the time otherwise Sheriff Stilinski would probably have gotten a call. But Finn has been acting different lately, he's been more violent lately and he's been distant and cold which was really not Finn like at all. The truth was Kurt was worried about his step-brother.

"Hey, Kurt," Stiles' voice broke Kurt out of his train of thought. "Hey, Stiles, what's up?" Kurt asked.

"Not much. Hey can I ask you a question?" Stiles asked with a serious look on his face.

Kurt wondered if Stiles was going to ask what was up with Finn lately or why Finn hated him. "Sure," Kurt said not knowing what his answer would be if that was Stiles' question.

"Do you find me attractive?" Stiles asked still with the serious look on his face.

Kurt stared at him in disbelief for a few moments before he answered. "Um, I guess I do but I have a boyfriend," he muttered.

"Oh, I know, and I have a girlfriend I was just wondering," Stiles said walking away smiling. He finally got the answer to the question that was bothering him since the beginning of the school year.

* * *

**So yeah, the whole Sexy and I Know it dance in scott's room was inspired by this video : watch?v=dD3nsdV0Gh8 &list=FLXt_IpTkz46lCmETp1uKfeQ&index=8&feature=plcp**

**And I brought Kurt in because Kurt is my favorite Glee character and my other two are Rory and Blaine (so sad Damian McGinty won't be on Glee next year). But here it is, I hope you enjoy it, I enjoyed writing it.**


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

**AN: Jules!**

**In an effort to continue the fun, I'm going to try and avoid not- fun, but the best laid plans of men and writers…**

**As always, Heart's Fate and findmywaybacktoyou, you two are awesome and amazing and…well, supercali-fragalistic-expialidocious, which is really the highest compliment I can ever give someone. To our new reviewers, LilMissxPunKprincess and kyella0203, welcome aboard and thank you so very much! =) All of our followers and alert-ers, thank you thank you, feel free to drop a line if you feel inclined. (Hey, that and this almost rhymed. =) )**

**Also, Heart's Fate, thank you for the review on my one-shot** _**Moonstruck.** _ **I'm glad you liked it, though I am curious as to why you read it at work, having been pre-warned about the smut…. =P Did they try to peek at what you were reading? Because that may have been awkward…**

**So…..**

**Go.**

* * *

You're really making me do this, then?"

Quinn and Allison, standing on her front porch, gave Rachel identical grins.

"Yep," Quinn chirped, Allison nodding in agreement.

Rachel just sighed, opening the door wider to let them in.

How did she let them talk her into this again?

* * *

_Earlier that day…_

_She was the first to arrive at their lunch table, tucked in the back corner. Ever since Stiles had called her out for avoiding them a couple of days ago, she'd been actively trying to prove that she didn't believe the demon possession to be her fault—regardless of the lingering guilt that appeared whenever she saw the burn on Stiles' arm._

_So, she made sure to always be at the table for lunch, generally before any of others._

_She unpacked her lunch, humming softly to herself, smiling as Quinn and Allison came over. Ever since the 'Sexy Nerd Dance video,' as they had taken to calling it, the two girls had become more comfortable in each other's presence. Quinn confided in Rachel that Allison reminded her of her sister, before she had been brainwashed by their father._

_The two other girls sat down, one on each side of Rachel, matching Cheshire cat-like smiles on their faces. She looked between the two of them warily._

" _What?" she asked cautiously._

" _Your dads are going to be gone for another couple of days, right?" Quinn asked in response. Rachel nodded slowly._

" _Why?"_

" _Well, we were thinking that you should have, you know…" Quinn trailed off._

" _A party," Allison supplied an impish look in her eyes. "You…or really, we should throw a party tonight."_

" _No." Rachel shook her head rapidly._ _"No, no, no."_

" _Rachel…"_

" _No!_ _No, Quinn. You remember the last party I had, right? You yelled at Noah for an hour, we did body shots off of Brittany, and I made out with Blaine. Who is gay. Not to mention Brittany throwing up on me during assembly. I am not having another party."_

" _Please? Pleeease?" Quinn pouted at her, Allison mimicking the expression on her other side._

" _Yeah, Rachel, pleeease?"_

" _It's not a good idea."_

_Quinn leaned in and put her head on Rachel's shoulder, giving her puppy dog eyes. "Please, Rach? Please?"_

_Rachel closed her eyes and sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."_

" _You'll do what?" Noah's voice rang out from across the table, and Rachel opened her eyes to see him sitting there with Santana._

" _Apparently, I'm having a party tonight."_

" _Sweet. I'll get the booze."_

* * *

Allison and Quinn took care of everything, once they had her permission. Allison invited the pack, and Quinn filled in the gleeks that weren't completely shunning them after Rachel's break up with Finn—making sure to tell them, of course, that Finn was not allowed anywhere near the party, and it should not even be mentioned in his presence.

Beyond that, Rachel wasn't sure what else they had done, but it obviously involved Lydia, because she barged into the house carrying bags.

"Hello, Lydia. Won't you come in?" She turned to Allison. "Do the werewolves barge in your house without knocking too, or is it just mine?"

Allison smiled, shaking her head as Lydia's eyes narrowed.

"Cute. Where are we having this…thing?"

"Basement," Rachel said, arching a sarcastic brow at the girl's disdain. "It's soundproofed."

"Fine." Lydia shrugged. "Show me."

"No please?" Rachel deadpanned, turning towards the basement stairs. "This way."

Lydia rolled her eyes, but followed the shorter girl to the basement.

* * *

Quinn watched them go warily. "What are the chances that one of them is going to be murdered down there?" she asked Allison calmly. "Though for the record, I'm putting my money on Rachel. She's got rage in that tiny body of hers."

Allison just laughed, moving into the kitchen.

"I don't know, Quinn. Lydia's her own special brand of crazy," Stiles said from behind her, opening his arms for a hug. She sank into them happily, as Scott sidled around them to press a kiss on Allison's head.

"Hi," Quinn murmured up at him.

"Hi." He gave her a goofy grin, which made her heart melt. _He is just so adorable_ , she thought, giving him a light kiss.

"They're talkative." Scott's amusement snapped Quinn out of her happy-Stiles-bubble, and she turned to stick her tongue out at the wolf.

"You guys are here to help set-up, right?" she asked them. "'Cause if not, you gotta go."

"Just tell us what you need," Stiles said with a smile.

Allison began directing the boys, emptying chips into bowls, bringing things downstairs. Quinn sent a quick text to Puck, double checking that he and Santana were on their way. He answered as Rachel reentered the kitchen, shaking her head.

"She kicked me out of my own basement," Rachel said, making Quinn shake her head and laugh. She threw an arm over Rachel's shoulders, leading the smaller girl towards the main stairs.

"C'mon Rach, let's get you changed. Allison's got everything under control down here, I think.

She let Quinn lead her up the stairs. Quinn could hear her muttering under her breath about Lydia, and she shook her head, grinning.

She pulled away from Rachel when they entered her color-explosion of a bedroom, making a beeline for the brunette's closet. She heard Rachel sit down heavily on her bed as she perused the closet, pulling clothes from the hangers and tossing them behind her, over her shoulder and into the bedroom.

"Is Derek coming tonight?" she called back to Rachel, going through the girl's shoe collection.

"I don't know. Probably not. He doesn't seem like a party kind-of guy."

Quinn furrowed her brow. Rachel sounded…off. She scooped up her shoe pile and walked into the bedroom, stopping short and laughing.

Rachel was sprawled on her bed, covered in clothes—the clothes Quinn had been carelessly throwing behind her. She was almost completely covered, a foot and a hand the only body parts not under the pile.

Quinn dropped the shoes on the floor, poking playfully at the living, breathing, clothes monster. She grinned when she heard Rachel giggle, and started pulling the clothes off the smaller girl, starting at her head.

"Hello," she said once she uncovered Rachel's face.

"Hello."

"So did Derek say he wasn't coming?"

Rachel sighed, sitting up and pushing clothes off her legs. "Derek hasn't said much of anything. I haven't seen or heard from him since the exorcism."

"Oh." Quinn chewed at her bottom lip. "Maybe he…" she trailed off, uncertain.

"It's alright, Quinn," Rachel said softly. "Now why did you empty my closet onto me and my bed?"

Quinn gave her a soft smile, sifting through the clothes. "Because I let you dress yourself every day, against my better judgment, and there is no way I'm letting you dress yourself for this."

* * *

The party was going surprisingly well. Lydia had turned her basement into less of a Rachel-shrine, as her fathers' had recently redecorated it, and more of a "cool" hang-out party room. White Christmas lights ran around the room, and all of the instruments and recording equipment had been moved carefully up to her dads' room, the door locked.

Noah and Santana, with mild assistance from Brittany, had provided a plethora of alcohol, and Rachel desperately tried to avoid learning where and how they had procured it, despite Noah's bragging to Scott.

First to arrive was Sam, with an easy smile and hugs for both Rachel and Quinn. He was introduced to Scott, Stiles, and Allison, instantly bonding with the boys over…something. She wasn't sure what. After Sam, Mike and Tina showed up, Mercedes in tow, followed not long after by Kurt, Blaine, Rory, Sugar, and Artie.

Rachel watched in an amused suspense as the gleeks met the pack, both sizing the other up.

The awkward stare down was interrupted by the arrival of Jackson, who appeared to have brought…everybody he's ever met. At least, that's how it seemed to Rachel as people poured into her thankfully large basement. The lacrosse team, the football team, the cheerleaders. People she knew went to school with them but that she's never met. People who throw slushies on her. She fought her way through the crowd to where he stood with Danny at the bar, suddenly fiercely glad the room was soundproofed as someone turned the music from unbearably loud to ear-splitting.

"Jackson! Who are all of these people?"

"They're people," he told her with a smirk. "Drink?" He held one out to her, shrugging when she didn't take it and turning back to talk to Danny. She stomped her foot in annoyance before turning away and coming face to face with Mercedes who, by the smell of it, was already well on her way to utter drunkenness.

"Hello Mercedes."

"What's your problem?" Mercedes demanded.

Rachel blanched and took a step back. "Wh…what?"

"Your problem? You know, the reason you broke up with Finn and walk around acting like your better than the rest of us?"

"You're drunk, Mercedes," Rachel said flatly, attempting to move around the girl.

Mercedes side-stepped into her path. "'Cause you're not better than us. I'm ten times the singer you are, and hotter, too. You think those people you eat with are your friends? You don't have friends, Rachel, they just feel sorry for you. The only time anybody liked you was when you were with Finn, and even then it was only him. The rest of us just put up with you because we need an extra body for competition."

Mercedes smirked and Rachel lost the tenuous control on her anger.

_Smack!_

"You little bitch, you can't hit me!" Mercedes shouted, and Rachel shook her head and pushed past her, pausing to whisper in her ear.

"I can and I did. What's more, I could kick your ass from here to Florida and back, so do me a favor and don't talk to me. And I'm way more talented than you, so kiss my well-toned, hot ass."

She stalked away, Quinn appearing at her side with Stiles' on her arm.

"You okay? We saw you slap her; what'd she say?"

"Oh, just the usual. She's prettier and more talented than I am, I shouldn't have broken up with Finn, I have no friends, you guys are gonna leave me. Normal stuff." She felt her façade begin to crumble—no matter that she knew it wasn't true, it still hurt to have someone tell her all of her insecurities were realities.

"Oh, sweetie," Quinn had to yell to be heard above the music. She pulled Rachel into a hug. "You know it isn't true, and she's just jealous of how amazing you are. Ignore her."

Rachel nodded into Quinn's shoulder, giggling as Stiles awkwardly patted his hand on her shoulder, looking very uncomfortable.

She pulled away from Quinn and smiled. "I'm gonna have Noah make me a drink," she told them, searching for the unmistakable Mohawk. Finding it, she gave the couple an unseen wave—they were lost to the world, kissing sweetly—and heading in his direction.

He mixed her up something, giving her a one armed hug, and she was off, circling the room and getting progressively more and more tipsy—whatever Noah had made her was very, very strong.

She was on her second…third?...of the Noah-made concoctions and officially, deliriously giggly drunk when Derek walked down the basement stairs, scowling and scanning the room. Rachel bounced over to him, grinning like the drunken idiot she currently was.

"Hi Derek!" she chirped. He gave her a quick once-over, then a lingering one, and she grinned. Quinn had dressed her in a little black dress and heels, and she knew she looked awesome.

He inhaled a deep breath, quirking up a brow "You're drunk," he stated, eyeing the drink in her hand. "How many of those have you had?"

"Three…five? I don't know. Noah made them for me and they're awesome. I love Noah. I should go say hi to him." She turned to stumble away, absentmindedly considering kicking off the sexy heels, as they made walking rather difficult.

Derek grabbed her arm. "I don't think you need to go see 'Noah.' I think you need to sober up."

She pulled her arm from his grasp, glaring. "You've ignored me for the past two days, and you're not my boyfriend, so I don't really think it's any of your damn business what I do." She whirled around, pulled off her shoes, and stormed away, gulping down the rest of her drink.

He followed, herding her into a more secluded corner.

"It is my business."

"No, it really isn't."

He opened his mouth to argue, and she held up her hand, suddenly weary. "Why are you here, Derek?"

"The pack didn't show up for training. I followed their scents. Rachel…"

She shook her head. "Save it. I'm used to disappointment, so I'll bounce back quick." She slipped out of his grasp again, giving him one last look. "Don't follow. Stay."

And she disappeared into the crowd, grabbing Noah and Sam's hands as she went by, asking them to dance with her.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**Kayla here again. Hello, I would have had this up earlier today but my computer decided to hate me, I got distracted and work had to drag me away, but I've been plotting a lot over the time so I have some plans for future chapters. So where were well. Oh yeah Rachel Berry's party.**

Scott looked over as he heard Mercedes Jones talking to Rachel. He watch as the girl tore Rachel down telling her that her she had no friends. It pissed Scott off, Mercedes barely knew any of them, where did she come off telling Rachel that they weren't her friends. Allison seemed to sense Scott's anger and put her hand on his shoulder trying to calm him down, which worked. And when Rachel slapped Mercedes Scott smiled. Mercedes stormed off and Scott saw Quinn and Stiles approach Rachel so he and Allison joined them.

"Rachel, don't listen to her," Scott said. "She doesn't know anything about us."

"Thanks, Scott," Rachel said smiling then she ran off to find Puck.

"So shall we get drunk?" Stiles asked.

"Remember the last time you tried to get my drunk, it didn't work," Scott said.

"Yeah, but I drank most of that bottle," Stiles said as he watch Rory completely wasted flirt with Lydia who was too busy making sure her decorations were still perfect to even notice he was there.

"Hey, I think someone has a little crush on Lydia," Scott said nudging Allison and Stiles.

"I know, poor guy, she's going to ignore him," Stiles said chuckling as he and Quinn went off to get drinks and dance.

"So how did you get Rachel to throw a party?" Scott asked Allison.

"It's really a long story but we begged her," Allison said.

"Well, I think this is a good thing, we needed this," Scott said looking around. He had been drinking alcohol all night but it didn't seem to affect him. Scott looked around to see Isaac Lahey dancing with Sugar Motta. Scott didn't know much about Isaac to be honest. Isaac was on the Lacrosse team but other than that he knew next to nothing about him.

Scott looked away not wanting to stare at Isaac like a creeper and saw Derek standing there confused as Rachel walked away from him. Derek caught his eyes and walked over to Scott and Allison.

"You didn't show up for training," he said flatly.

"So, we can't skip one training?" Scott asked.

"Well, I was going to introduce you to our new pack member, which I see he's over there," Derek said pointing to Isaac.

"Isaac's in the pack?" Scott asked surprised as he watched Isaac again.

"Yeah, is that a problem?" Derek asked annoyed.

"No, I'm just surprised," Scott said.

"Well, I'm going to need your help tomorrow night, since it's the full moon we need to help the new pack members with their shifts," Derek said.

"Why can't we just have fun and talk about this tomorrow morning?" Scott asked.

"Because we need to talk about it now," Derek said.

"Hey! It's the sour wolf, how are you?" Stiles said coming up and clapping Derek on the back who looked annoyed.

"Don't call me sour wolf," he growled.

"Whoa, hey, calm down, it's just a nick name," Stiles said backing up slightly as Quinn joined them. "What's up?"

"Derek's being a buzz kill and talking about the full moon tomorrow," Scott said.

"It's important," Derek said and then walked away annoyed.

Unknown to the partiers in side but a mysterious man stood outside watching the house. He had no interest in the humans in the house, he wanted the werewolves. He listened to their conversation and smiled in amusement. The alpha had no control over his pack it would seem.

The stranger arrived to town that day hoping to find the werewolves in town, he had an offer probably none of them could refuse, but they would have to abandon their alpha to do so. Maybe the stranger would go to Derek Hale first to avoid a full out war in this small town. The stranger walked away to the hotel he was staying at knowing he'll be seeing them around town, and most likely tomorrow since it would be the full moon.

**Oohhh who's the creeper who is stalking the wolf pack? Tune in to find out.**


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

**AN: Jules! Don't shoot! =/**

**I know. I took my sweet time updating this, but in my defense, I did just celebrate my 21** **st** **birthday and work every day for a week prior without a day off. I was a bit fried. And then of course, there was Isaac—the tropical storm, not the werewolf—and I live in SW Florida. But I did survive, yay! It wasn't actually that bad here, we've had far worse and we were pretty lucky, but it was time consuming to prepare for. And I was working on my submission for the Teen Wolf fanfiction contest, which is posted up here on .**

**But here I am, with an update that will hopefully convince you all to forgive me.**

**First, however, I must do this:**

**THANK YOU! All of our followers and alerts, thank you so much. Our newbie reviewers, and out mysterious "guest" who asked for more, welcome to the reviewers appreciation arena, and thank you so very very much for wanting more.**

**Heart's Fate, you're beautiful and I love you, and I really loved that Erica/Stiles/Lydia oneshot you did, so guys, GO READ IT! Also read the Jackson/Rachel oneshot, because it's boss.**

**Findmywaybacktoyou, I always do love your CAPS LOCK tendencies. They make me smile. Along with that, I agree to your assessment: ISAAC! Because he's super awesome and adorable and I kind of ship him and Scott now….**

**Haleberry…you changed your name? May we take the blame for that? Because I really really want it to be our fault…lol. Also your reviews are so long which is amazing and awesome, and I can't believe you read this entire story in one day, because….wow. 0.o Thank you.**

**Alright, wherever did we leave off? Party? Derek and Rachel being all non-copasetic? Mysterious lurker outside the teenager filled Berry home?**

**Sounds about right…**

**Go!**

* * *

Looking back on it now, Rachel knew pulling Noah and Sam in for a dance was a not a good idea—not with a possessive and rather on edge alpha werewolf lurking by, at least.

In her defense, she was very, very drunk.

Which also accounts for the fuzzy quality of the memories running through her head as she sits up, head pounding painfully, and surveys her surroundings.

She appeared to be in her bed, though she couldn't recall getting upstairs or…changing. She snuck a second look under her blanket to be sure. Gone was her black dress. In its place was a worn in white men's tank top…wife beater…whatever they're called.

She shook her head to get her thoughts back on track. This shirt looks like the one….she turned in her head sharply, ignoring the knocking of her headache at the motion, eyes wide.

She was wearing Derek's shirt. She knew this because the wolf in question was sprawled across the bed next to her, shirtless. She cautiously lifted the blanket and breathed a sigh of relief. He was still wearing his jeans, which meant she _didn't_ have drunk sex with him.

She silently slipped from under the covers and tiptoed to her closet. She grabbed a pair of shorts and shimmied into them, stepping quickly and lightly to her bedroom door. She pulled it open and clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle threatening to rise.

The werewolves were huddled together on the floor outside her bedroom door, a pile of people, pillows, and blankets. Danny was on the "bottom," half under the cuddled combination of Jackson and Lydia. Scott, in turn, had his feet sprawled over their legs and his head resting on the stomach of…Rachel tilted her head curiously, before looking back towards the man in her bed. Derek turned Isaac Lahey? She sighed to herself, stepping around Allison, her head on Scott's chest. She desperately needed aspirin before she dealt with there being a new werewolf…and whether a new werewolf meant she had to kill someone.

She stepped over Sam on the stairs, amused at his odd choice for a sleeping place. Quinn was lying on top of Stiles on the couch, both sound asleep. Rachel turned into the kitchen, forcing herself to stifle another laugh—Noah was asleep, curled up on her kitchen counter, hugging a spatula. He had probably hoped to ambush her into making pancakes. She bypassed the counter, stepping over Rory on the floor with a bowl on his head, and reached for the aspirin in the cabinet above the sink. She swallowed them dry, chasing the pills with a glass of water.

Deciding she was ready to survey the damage to her house, she left the boys to their dreams in her kitchen, and made her way down the stairs into her basement.

There were more sleeping party-goers there, among red Solo cups, empty cans and bottles, and some random articles of clothing that Rachel didn't really want to dwell on for too long.

Mercedes was closest to her and the stairs, crashed out on the basement couch. Rachel resisted the temptation to kick her, instead walking past, cringing as she stepped on chips and popcorn. She looked to her left and grinned at Santana and Brittany curled around each other on top of the bar, precariously close to falling off. Tina and Mike were cuddling on the floor, Kurt and Sugar sleeping on opposite sides of the stage. Artie was nowhere to be found, but Rachel had a vague recollection of him being picked up by dad.

The only person awake besides herself was Blaine. He looked up as she came in, mouthing a quiet "hey." He had a garbage bag in one hand and was picking up cups and chip bags.

"You don't have to do that, Blaine," she told him quietly, coming closer.

He shrugged. "I don't mind. I helped make the mess, after all."

She smiled, grabbing another garbage bag from the box, and opening it quietly. "Well then, thank you." She bent down and began filling her bag. "Do you think they're actually sleeping, or just trying to get out of doing work?"

Blaine gave a quiet laugh. "I don't know about the others, but Kurt is definitely asleep. He's never let his hair look like that if he was awake."

Rachel grinned, looking at Kurt over her shoulder. His hair _was_ in disarray, spiked up and going in every direction. "Uh, yeah, no. I don't think he'd like that. Please tell me you took a picture."

Blaine grinned and flashed his phone at her. "It's my new wallpaper."

"You really love him, huh?"

He stopped cleaning and looked at her, smiling softly. "Yeah, I really do. He's high-maintenance and dramatic, but he's loyal and kind and compassionate, and so, so talented. And I love him."

Rachel gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Good. He had a hard couple of years. He needed you."

"I needed him."

They smiled at each other before dropping hands and returning to their respective trash bags.

"You know," he interrupted the silence, "I think they should keep us apart when we're drunk."

She looked at him questioningly.

"We always end up singing a duet," he informed her with an embarrassed grin.

Rachel mouth formed an "o" as the night came rushing back to her in a blur. "Oh god," she muttered. "Did I really-"

"Dance on the bar with Santana, Brittany, and Quinn? Kick Finn's ass? Make out with that sexy guy whose shirt you're wearing? Or sing _Gettin' Jiggy_ _Wit It_ with me? Because the answer is yes, to all of the above."

Rachel groaned and sat down, holding her head in her hands as she remembered.

* * *

_Sam and Noah were all too happy to oblige Rachel's sudden need to dance, and they trapped her between them. She saw Derek move out of the corner, but he didn't head her way. Instead, he ambushed a surprised looking Scott, and even Rachel could tell from across the room that he was just as grouchy and growly as he'd been with her._

_She shrugged it off, concentrating instead on Noah's hands on her waist, Sam's drunken laugh behind her as Rory joined them, and the heavy beat of the music._

_She let the boys spin her around, grinning widely when Quinn grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the crush of people._

_She was led to the bar and handed off to Santana, who hauled her_ onto _the bar, next to a topless Brittany._

" _Where's your shirt, Britt?" Rachel asked, laughing._

_The blond stopped dancing and looked down at herself in confusion, then up at Rachel with a shrug._

" _I don't know!" She looked around furtively and leaned in to loudly whisper "it was probably the trolls. They steal my clothes all the time!"_

_Rachel gasped. "Trolls? There are trolls in my basement?" She turned to Quinn quickly, almost falling off the bar as her balance wavered. Santana, now on the bar with the other three, reached around to Quinn to steady her._

" _Quinn!" Rachel shouted over the music, panicked, "there are trolls in my basement!"_

_Quinn nodded seriously, looking around the room._

" _That's why we're up here," she answered. "It's safer!"_

_Rachel beamed at her. "That's so smart, Quinn! You're so smart!" she jumped on the taller girl in a hug, almost sending them both crashing to the ground below. Santana and Brittany reached out and caught them, all four girls giggling drunkenly._

_The song changed to a faster beat and Santana pulled off her shirt and swung it around over her head, throwing it…somewhere. She grabbed Quinn by the hips and began dancing, rocking the blonde with her. Brittany and Rachel joined in, ignorant of the stares and catcalls they were receiving for their little inadvertent show._

_Rachel felt a hand grab her wrist and pull, and suddenly she was being held against a hard and firm chest that seemed to be…growling. She looked up into the dark eyes of Derek, shifting around to get him to let her go. His hold tightened, and she pouted._

" _Put me down," she whined, kicking his leg. His grip loosened in surprise and Rachel let go of his neck, sliding down his body, ignoring his sharp intake of breath as he noticed how her dress had ridden up. He opened his mouth, but Rachel never found out what he was planning on saying, because she was grabbed by Blaine and pulled across the room to the small stage._

" _Let's sing Rachie!" He yelled, clearly tipsy. She giggled and nodded, scrambling up onto the stage behind him. She went through her music, tossing cds and cd cases behind her carelessly. Finally decided, she put it into the stereo and hit play, cutting off the loud dance beat._

_She grabbed her pink sparkly microphone. "People! Guys, people, Blainey and I are gonna sing, 'kay? And you're gonna love it because we're all kinds of awesome-sauce. And because I'll if you don't, I'll make Cas smite you." She nodded seriously, then grinned as the beat started up, introducing Will Smith's 'Gettin Jiggy Wit It.' "Blainey, sing!"_

_Blaine grabbed the other mike, bopping his head._

_**Bring it. Woo Uh, uh, uh, uh Ha ha, ha ha What, what, what, what Ha ha ha ha Uh On your mark ready set let's go Dance floor pro I know you know I go psycho when my new joint hit Just can't sit Gotta get jiggy wit it Ooh that's it Now honey honey come ride D-K-N-Y all up in my eye You gotta Prada bag with a lotta stuff in it Give it to your friend let's spin Everybody lookin' at me Glancin the kid Wishin they was dancin' a jig Here with this handsome kid Ciga-cigar right from Cuba-Cuba I just bite it It's for the look I don't light it Ill-way the an-may on the ance-day orr-flay Giving up jiggy make it feel like foreplay Yo my cardio is infinite (ha ha) Big Willie Style's all in it Gettin' Jiggy Wit It** _ _Rachel curled her hand around the microphone stand as she joined him on the chorus._

_**(na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana) Gettin jiggy wit it (na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana) Gettin jiggy wit it (na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana) Gettin jiggy wit it** _ _Blaine stepped back as Rachel rapped, laughing._

_**What You wanna ball with the kid Watch your step you might fall Trying to do what I did Mama (uh) mama (uh) mama come closer In the middle of the club with the rub-a-dub (uh) No love for the haters the haters Mad cause I got floor seats at the Lakers See me on the fifty yard line with the Raiders Met Ali he told me I'm the greatest I got the fever for the flavour of a crowd pleaser DJ play another From the prince of this Your highness Only mad chicks ride in my whips South to the west to the east to the north Bought my hits and watch 'em go off a go off Ah yes yes y'all ya don't stop In the winter or the (summertime) I makes it hot Gettin jiggy wit 'em** _

_Blaine stepped back up again, facing Rachel as they finished the song together._

_**(na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana) Gettin jiggy wit it (na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana) Gettin jiggy wit it (na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana)** _

_**Eight fifty I.S. if you need a lift**_ _**Whose the kid in the drop**_ _**Who else Will Smith**_ _**Living that life some consider a myth**_ _**Rock from south street to one two fifth**_ _**Women used to tease me**_ _**Give it to me now nice and easy**_ _**Since I moved up like George and Weezie**_ _**Dream to the maximum I be asking em**_ _**Would you like to bounce with the brother that's platinum**_ _**Never see Will attacking em**_ _**Rather play ball with Shaq and em**_ _**Flatten em**_ _**Psyche**_ _**Kiddin**_ _**You thought I took a spill**_ _**But I didn't**_ _**Trust the lady of my life she hitting**_ _**Hit her with a drop top with the ribbon**_ _**Crib for my mom on the outskirts of Philly**_ _**You trying to flex on me**_ _**Don't be silly**_ _**Getting jiggy wit it**_

 _ **(na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana)**_ _**Gettin jiggy wit it**_ _**(na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana)**_ _**Gettin jiggy wit it**_ _**(na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana)**_ _**Gettin jiggy wit it**_ _**(na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana)**_ _**Gettin jiggy wit it**_

 _ **(na na na na na na na nana na na na na nana)**_ _**-repeat-**_

_**Chorus** _

_Rachel shoved the microphone back onto the stand sloppily, jumping on Blaine in a hug. It only lasted a few moment, Blaine laughing in her ear, before Rachel once again found herself being yanked away—this time, however, the pull was rough, and even in her drunken haze she knew it was not Derek grabbing her this time._

_She looked up into the strangely dark eyes of Finn Hudson, blinking in alcohol induced confusion._

" _Finn," she said, "you were not invited to this party. It's very rude to crash. You've been super rude lately."_

_His grip on her arm tightened, and he silently turned and started pushing through the dancing crowd, pulling her after him despite her protests. She dug her heels in halfway to her basement stair, wrenching her wrist from his grasp._

" _What the hell are you doing, Finn?" she demanded, scanning the room cautiously. She couldn't Derek and that worried her. If he got angry, they were going to have a serious problem on their hands._

" _We're leaving," he answered. "I'm done with this shit and you and I are going upstairs. Now." He reached for her, and she backed up a step, starting as hands steadied her. She checked over her shoulder in time to see Quinn's eyes flash gold, and cursed under her breath._

" _We're not going anywhere, Finn. Now I really think you need to leave."_

_He took another step towards her and she heard Quinn begin to growl in her hear, low and pissed. She let her eyes circle the room again. Scott was behind Finn, eyes gold. Jackson was pushing through next to him, Lydia right behind, fingers curled into a fist. To the left, Danny was looking wildly from her to Scott and back, but still she saw no Derek, no red eyes glowing from the quickly silencing crowd._

_Her human boys were all prepping for a fight too, she noted. Noah and Sam were pushing through the circling teenagers, while Rory was detaching Mike from Tina. Even Santana and Brittany were getting ready for a fight; the former pulling what looked like a stiletto knife from her hair. Basically, the situation was going to get very bad, very fast if she didn't do something._

_But she was really going to have to try to remember to ask Santana how she hid that there. It could be a useful trick._

_She finally saw Derek, as Finn took a third step towards her, his mouth forming a smug smile, as though he thought he had won. He hadn't. As she continued watching Derek push gracefully, predatorily, through the crowd from the corner of her eyes, she let her own hand curve into a fist._

" _There's something you don't know about me, Finn." She took a step forward. "I kick ass." She struck out her right fist, walloping his eye as she moved lithely forward, bringing her knee into his crotch. She he doubled over to cup himself, she swung a roundhouse kick into his side, sending him sprawling to the floor._

_She straightened, rolling her shoulders. "Someone get him out of here," she called. "Not you, Noah. I need you to make me a couple dozen more drinks." The mohawked boy complied, sliding around behind the bar and pulling up bottles._

_He did…something, and handed her a glass and a shot full of a purpleish blue liquid. She downed the shot, and the drink, shaking her head to clear Finn from her thoughts, and turned to find Derek. She wandered around the room, finally coming across him under the stairs, watching her with dark, unreadable, eyes._

" _Hey," she said quietly, standing in front of him. "You're still here."_

_He raised a brow, and she elaborated. "I thought for sure you would be stalking the car bringing Finn home so you could kill him."_

" _I would have, except then you'd be here getting more and more drunk and dancing on bars and with boys and who knows what else."_

" _So you're keeping an eye on me?"_

" _For the moment." He reached out and jerked her into his lap. "Now I'm keeping my hands on you." He ran his hands up her sides and around to her back, one drifting up into her hair. He gripped the brown locks and eased her head back, exposing her throat. "And I'm thinking I might keep my mouth on you, too. Did I mention how much I like this dress? I'd prefer you weren't wearing it in front of all these idiots, but it is very sexy. Especially with those shoes."_

_He lowered his mouth to her throat, planting a trail of slow, leisurely kisses along her neck._

" _I'm still mad at you," she said breathily, biting her lip to stifle a moan as his tongue made a path up her throat._

" _Why?"_

" _I…oh. I don't remember."_

_She felt his grin against her skin, and then his lips were smashing against hers, and she let go to the sensation and all that is Derek._

* * *

"Welcome back," Blaine laughed, as she looked up at him. "Remember now?"

She nodded. "I can't believe I danced on a bar."

"I can't believe how easily you kicked Finn's ass. You're kind of tiny, you know."

She grinned, knocking into his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. You're one to talk, Frodo."

He stuck his tongue out in response, and they continued cleaning.

As she picked up trash, she let her mind drift. They had made out for the rest of the party, up until Jackson came over to tell Derek something. Only then did Rachel realize that most of the people were gone, and only some gleeks and the pack remained. She had tried to rise up off Derek's lap, but his hands on her waist gripped her closer, and he stood up with her in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned her head against his chest, listening absently as he gave instructions to Scott and Derek. He climbed the stairs holding her, moving through the living room and up the main staircase as well.

She vaguely remembers him taking her into her room, but by then she was already half-asleep, lulled by the beating of his heart mixing with a scent uniquely Derek. He had stripped her of her dress slowly, pulling his shirt off and rolling it onto her instead, wrapping her even further in his Derek-smell. He'd tucked her in and crawled in next to her, and then Rachel figures she must've gone to sleep, because she doesn't remember anything after.

She shook herself out of the memories as footsteps reverberated off the walls. Jackson appeared on the stairs, Scott and Danny in his wake. The three boys groggily grabbed trash bags and began cleaning near the bar and stairs.

She smiled, knowing the only reason Jackson and Danny were helping was Derek, and, figuring he had ordered them to, didn't tease them about it.

Once the basement was clean, Rachel made her way upstairs, doing a headcount as she went. She poked her head upstairs quickly to see who was there, then meandered into the kitchen, gathering pancake ingredients.

* * *

Derek let his hand drift lazily to Rachel's side of the bed, shooting up in alarm when he felt nothing there. He was instantly on alert, rising from the bed and stalking out of the room. He let his nose lead him to her, taking the steps two at a time. He stopped short in the entryway to her kitchen, tilting his head at the scene in amused confusion.

His pack was practically shoveling pancakes into their mouths—even the always dainty and clean Lydia has syrup smeared across her mouth. Stiles was practically moaning. Derek's eyes scanned the room, hardening when he saw the two boys Rachel had danced with last night, but sliding over them in search of the tiny brunette.

The girl in question was standing at the stove, wielding a spatula. His pack went quiet as he stepped into the room, and the humans all looked up from their breakfasts in confusion, falling silent as well.

Rachel twirled around slowly, looking at him with wide eyes. He smiled to himself as he looked her up and down—she was still in his shirt.

She looked at him, at her—his—shirt, then back at him, turning an appealing shade of pink.

"I'm going to go change so you can have your shirt back."

She slid the last of the pancakes on to a heaping plate, turning off the stove and whopping the hand of the kid with the mohawk who was trying to steal one from the stack.

"You want more, Noah," she told him laughing, "you'll have to clean for it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know the rules," the boy replied, giving Rachel a kiss on the forehead as he lifted the pan off the stove.

Derek's eyes narrowed at the overly familiar gesture, his hands clenching at his sides. He forced himself to relax as Rachel walked towards hum, frowning as she went to step-side around him. He snaked an arm out to stop her, grasping her waist and pulling her against him. He sneaked a hand up the back of her shirt and pressed her close, breathing in. She smelled like a mix of her scent, his pack, and him. She smelled like home.

He tilted her head up, taking in her wide eyes, and pressed a quick, innocent kiss on her lips.

"I have a shirt in my car. You stay in that one."

She nodded absently, poking him in the stomach to make him let her go. "Go get it, and then I'll do introductions."

Derek gave her another kiss, his hand caressing her back as he slid it out from under the shirt. He glanced at Danny, who shot up from his chair and eased past them out of the kitchen to get Derek a shirt from his car. He let his hands drift down to Rachel's thighs, lifting her against him and walking them over to the collections of stools around the counter, taking the one Danny had vacated. She let him shift her around so she was facing the others, her back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her middle, watching the assortment of high-schoolers sitting in Rachel's kitchen.

"Well?" he asked her. "I thought you were going to introduce me."

She craned her neck to look at him. "I believe I said I would once you had a shirt on."

He smirked as Danny re-entered the room, tossing Derek the shirt. He held it up for Rachel to see, ignoring the silent and bewildered looks from the humans.

"On."

He slid her off his lap, anchoring her in front of him with his leg curled around hers and he pulled the shirt over his head. He lifted her back up, and then nodded to the forehead-kissing mohawk.

"Start with him."

"Derek, Noah Puckerman. Noah, this is Derek Hale."

"Dude…like wanted for murder Derek Hale?"

Rachel clapped a hand over Derek's mouth before he could say anything, so he licked it, making it her jump.

"Ignore that, Noah. Derek, this is Sam, Rory, Sugar, Mike and Tina, Kurt and Blaine, and Santana. You already know Britt, and you were lucky enough to sleep through Mercedes leaving."

The girl she named as Santana looked at the confusing and strange blonde in bewilderment as Scott spoke up.

"What, Rach, we don't get introduced to your glee people?"

She stuck her tongue out at him, earning an arched brow from the tiny man in the weird outfit she had introduced at Kurt.

"Fine. Although you've already met Britt, Santana, and Noah. And I guess technically you met them all yesterday during the party." She shook her head. "Anyway. Glee, this is Scott, his girlfriend Allison, Stiles, Jackson and Lydia, Danny, and…Isaac, I believe." She looked up at Derek again. "You and I are going to be talking about that later, by the way."

He shrugged. "After breakfast." He held out a hand and Scott handed him a plate.

"Thank you," he told his beta, letting go of Rachel to eat.

"God, Rach, baby, you made these?"

She settled in on the floor between Quinn and the boy she called Noah, making the wolf shift inside. She nodded.

"They're awesome, right?" Stiles asked him, grinning. Derek now understood why his pack—the humans—has been eating with so much enthusiasm.

"Yes," he answered Stiles, "they are. Baby, you can cook, and sing, and fight…why haven't I mat—married you yet?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he was already cursing himself out for the slip-up. Something about this girl just made him lose his head.

"Because," she answered tightly, "I'm only 17, and we're not even dating. And don't call me baby."

"Out." His pack all began standing at his command, and even some of the humans stood uncertainly. Rachel's eyes flashed angrily.

"Sit back down and finish eating." She turned on him, and he felt his blood rush down. She was always beautiful, and he always wants her. But angry made her fiery and even more sexy and…god. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, throw her on the counter, and bury himself inside her.

He tried to tune back into reality, forcing himself out of a fantasy involving maple syrup, before she could notice that he wasn't listening to a word she'd said.

"—can't just kick people, my friends, out of my kitchen, especially just because I said something you didn't like, which was the truth, by the way, and there's really no need to be so rude and—"

He tuned out again, admiring the flush on her skin and the way she looked with her hands on her hips, in his shirt, her chest heaving in anger and frustration.

He set the dish gently on the counting, rising smoothly and stalking to her. He grabbed her by the hips and swung her up over his shoulder.

Keeping one hand on her rather delicious ass to hold her in place, he carried her into the kitchen, smirking as he heard Jackson and Isaac scoot in front of the door, effectively blocking the Noah kid from following. He could hear the kid protesting over Rachel's own arguments, but didn't stop until they were past the living room and into what looked like an office. He gave the large desk a glance and passed over it—that would be something to explore later. Instead, he sat her down in the chair, perching himself on the edge of the desk.

She finally fell silent and watched him warily. "Why are we in my daddy's office?"

"So we could talk."

"About?"

He quirked an eyebrow in response, staring her down. But he underestimated her stubborn nature—she crossed her arms, settled back in the chair, and kept her mouth shut and her eyes on him.

They sat in silence until it got uncomfortable even for Derek, who thrived on quiet.

"What's with the anger?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've been pissed at me for days and I'm not sure why."

"You're not sure why? Are you kidding me? You're why." She pushed out the chair and started heading for the door. Derek shot out an arm and halted her, pulling her in close.

"I'm why?"

"Yep."

He waited semi-patiently for her to elaborate, and this time she gave in first.

"You, you know, ignored me, after the whole exorcism thing and then came here last night all growly and angry and acting like you have all of these claims over me and like you can tell me what to do, which you don't and you can't and so I'm annoyed."

"I didn't ignore you. I was busy."

"Oh, you were busy. Well, then, that makes it all better, doesn't it." She extricated herself from his grasp, moving to the door.

"No, it apparently doesn't. I was patrolling the forest for that wendy-creature Brittany had mentioned."

"Uh-huh. And the growly claiming crap?"

"You were the one rubbing yourself all over those two boys. And doing a striptease on the bar."

"I was not stripping!"

* * *

"I was not stripping!"

Quinn's head shot up at the yell, her eyes finding the door, still guarded by Jackson and the other kid, who smelled like a wolf. She saw Puck smirk and Sam and Blaine start laughing.

"So what just happened?" Kurt asked her.

"Well…that was Derek being…well, Derek. And Rachel being Rachel. And when they collide it's sort of…"

"KABOOM…phshew." Stiles made some extra explosion sounds and moved his hands, ignoring the strange looks from Santana.

"Oh."

Quinn nodded. "Yeah, you guys should probably go. They're going to be fighting for a while."

"Maybe we should stay, then." This was, surprisingly, from Santana, and Quinn gave her a smile.

"Nah. He'd never hurt her. Right?"

Scott nodded. "Right."

The gleeks each cleaned their dishes and began making their way out, until only Brittany and Santana remained. Santana was pulling the blonde towards the door, but Britt was digging in her heels, looking anxiously from the door to Quinn.

"C'mon, Britt Britt, let's go."

"No, but I need…I can't. I have to tell Rachel. Quinn, I have to tell her!"

"Tell her what?"

"That the gun boys are coming and she's going to leave and she won't be here for the moon tonight."

Quinn was taken aback and bit her lip. "She's going to miss the full moon."

Brittany nodded, then burst into tears as Rachel's phone started ringing across the house.

* * *

Rachel pulled away from Derek, swatting the hand wandering up her—his—shirt as she reached for her phone. His lips found her neck as she answered it.

"Hel…hello?"

She stiffened, pulling away from Derek to stand across the room.

"What?...yeah, yeah, of course….how long?...yeah, I'll be ready. See you then."

She hung up, biting her lip and spinning out of the room, ignoring Derek calling her name behind her as he followed.

She sprinted up the stairs, dashing into her room and rummaging under her bed for a well-worn purple duffle bag—purple because Dean had refused to buy her a pink one and she had refused black. She went to her closet and started pulling out clothes and weapons.

She hadn't expected to hear from them, not for a while, at least. They were busy with getting Sammy's soul back, and she hadn't heard from them in months. Part of her was always surprised to hear from them anyway, the little Lima, Ohio girl who snuck into the back of their car and demanded they teach her.

But when they called she came, and vice versa, and if they needed her help, she was absolutely going to help them.

Besides, she missed her boys.

She packed her bag quickly, checking the time, and shoved past Derek out the door and down the stairs. She tossed her bag towards the front door and collected her shotgun from under the couch in the living room.

She slid into the kitchen, making a beeline for the cabinet under the sink and pulling out the long knife she had hidden there. She stood up and turned.

"Oh. Shit. Um. Hi, Santana. This is…not important, actually, I really don't have time. I gotta go." She looked at Quinn. "You remember that story I told you…about the thing, and the guys and that stuff?"

Quinn nodded warily.

"Well, they called, and they need my help, and I have to go."

"What?" Brittany started crying again, shaking her head as Rachel inched towards the door.

"I'm sorry, Britt. I'll only be gone a couple of days. A week, tops."

Quinn nodded again. "Just a week?"

"Or two. No more than a month. It's hard to say how long, really."

Brittany was rocking back and forth, shaking her head no while Santana tried to comfort her, without being sure why. Rachel was almost to the door, Jackson and Isaac moving out of her way, when Brittany grabbed her arm.

"Rachel, you can't go."

"What? No, sweetie, it's fine. I'll be back before you know it."

"No. No. I just…I have this really bad feeling, Rach. Something bad is going to happen to you and I don't know what it is but I have this feeling and you can't go."

"I'm sorry, Britt, I really am, but I have to." A car horn went off. "I really have to." She ran over to Quinn and kissed her on the forehead, giving hugs to Stiles, Scott and Allison along the way. "Lock up for me, Quinn?"

The blonde nodded again, speechless, as Rachel gave quick hugs to Santana and Brittany on her way out, and said goodbye to Danny, Jackson, Lydia, and Isaac. She slipped out of the room, and ran into Derek's chest.

"Hi. And bye. I have to go." She went up on her tiptoes and landed a quick kiss on his lips. She sidled out of his reaching arms and jogged to the door, throwing the duffle bag onto her shoulder and running out of the house.

* * *

Derek watched her out of the open front door, feeling his pack, Quinn, and the two cheerleaders fill the space behind him. They all watched Rachel toss her bag into the trunk of a sleek, black car—circa the late 1960's, as far as he could tell from here, and a Chevy. Impala. She slid into the backseat and the car peeled out, and all Derek could do was watch and try to squash the feeling of unease growing in his chest as the car disappeared around the corner.

* * *

**AN: Finally, I'm done. Goodness.**

**Let's take a moment to freak about last night's Glee.**

**Things I loved: Marley, Marley and Jake (hello Puckleberry 2.0!), Jake, Kate freaking Hudson being a bitch**

**Things I hated: Gleeks being out of character and MEAN, hanging out with Kitty and co., Kitty—who looks like she's thirty, what the hell is she doing in a high school show?—Kate freaking Hudson being a bitch, the gleeks thinking Rachel would pick 'Call Me Maybe' for a vocal competition instead of something challenging, and the lack of even a glimpse of Noah, Quinn, Mike, Santana, Rory, and even Finn and Mercedes….**

**That is all.**

**Love,**

**Jules**


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

**AN: Hi.**

**My name is Jules** **.**

**Real quick, some things I think you need to know…..well, one thing. In the next couple of chapters—I'm not sure for how long, actually—you're probably not going to like Rachel very much. When she appears that is. You're actually probably going to hate her a little bit. It's okay. You can hate her. You can send me hate mail and angry letters and I will agree with you wholeheartedly, but it's a necessary evil. I'm sorry in advance.**

**In this chapter, just to give you a hint, a very big change will happen in the lives of our supernaturally inclined teenagers, and you'll find out just how long Rachel has been gone. Eventually.**

 

**And, go.**

* * *

Quinn had begun keeping her phone on her desk during class, with the ringer on high. She knew Stiles, Scott, and Puck were doing the same—though Puck always did that, so it wasn't really out of the ordinary for him, at least—but even they knew that if Rachel was going to call, it'd be Quinn's number the brunette would dial first.

In the end, her cell phone efforts—and the four detentions she'd get because of it—wouldn't matter. Rachel wouldn't call. She'd just appear, suddenly and without warning or fanfare. But Quinn doesn't know that yet. And so her phone sits at the top left corner of her desks, waiting.

Just like Derek. Just like Puck and Scott and Stiles and Allison, Just like Santana and Brittany.

Just like Quinn.

Waiting on the girl they hadn't realized they'd need so much, miss so much.

* * *

The others kept asking her if this was normal—for hunts to take longer than a couple of days, as if Quinn knew. As if Quinn hadn't learned about Rachel's secret life only a day before them.

Derek was the worst. He kept pestering her, asking her questions she didn't know the answers to. Questions about hunting, and danger, about the men in the car Rach has disappeared into. If she didn't lo…like Stiles so much, she'd kill him for giving "sour wolf" her number.

She was honestly a bit surprised Derek hadn't gone after Rachel by now. Scott says that if it wasn't for pack, and the new wolves, he probably would have.

(And honestly, Quinn couldn't wait to hear Rachel's opinion on Derek turning Erica and Boyd, because while she understood the _why_ of it, saving the two, and Isaac, from themselves and the people who hurt them, she didn't really _agree_ with it, and she had a feeling Rachel would be very not-happy with the situation as well.)

The bell rang signaling for lunch and jolting Quinn from her stupor. She gathered her things, keeping her phone in her hand, facing up and in sight, and headed for the cafeteria for some barely edible "food."

Lunch was the same as it had always been, minus Rachel. Puck was there already, eating loudly and giving a running commentary on the girl's who'd been swayed to sleep with him this week, while Santana and Britt added in their opinions and snide comments on the girl's he was listing off.

Those two—Puck and Santana—had bought the story Quinn and Stiles had invented to explain Rachel's sudden mid-week Houdini act. And why wouldn't they? It was completely plausible that she—kind-hearted, compassionate Rachel B. Berry—would go visit a sick, on-her-death-bed-could-go-at-any-minute aunt in the middle of nowhere with no cell service or house phone or internet with no explanation or heads up despite the fact that neither of her dads have siblings. Really.

Puck was beginning to suspect something else was up, but Brittany was doing an excellent job of first, distracting him, and, second, not saying anything to the two not in the know, which Quinn found very impressive, since the other blonde usually had no filter, nor the clarity to know that some things should not be spoken of.

Scott and Allison were being extra lovey-dovey today…and yesterday and, Quinn's sure, tomorrow. She's pretty sure the extra love is due in part to the fact that the Argent's don't leave town when they hunt.

Isaac, Erica, and Boyd sat down. They had joined the group for lunch after their turning, and continued doing so. They left the seat between Puck and Quinn free, though they didn't fully understand _why_ —to them, it was just a chair.

Erica had tried to sit there on the first day, sliding up to Puck with a flirtatious grin painted in bright red lipstick. The grin fell when Puck told her to "get the f out of Berry's f-ing seat." Stiles had had to hold Quinn back, ignoring her growling, and Scott had had to assert dominance and pull rank on the new wolves. No one has sat in Rachel's seat since.

Quinn sighed, watching the table and its inhabitants. She leaned back into Stiles—he'd gotten there seconds after her—on whose lap she was perched comfortably. (They had added three _people_ to the table, but not three _chairs,_ so the couples of the group had gladly acquiesced to the proposed solution of lap-sitting/chair-sharing.)

Stiles pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Was the long-suffering sigh a hint?"

"No," Quinn replied, "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"My math quiz this morning. I don't think I did very well."

"Well, you've got a lot on your mind."

"When has that ever mattered?" She asked with a raise of her brow.

Stiles laughed. "In our lives? Never."

Quinn smiled at him, kissing him languidly for a minute. "I was also thinking," she said between kisses, lips still pressed to his mouth, "that I'd really like to know what your first name is."

Stiles pulled away, shaking his head. "No. Nope, nope, not gonna happen." He looked over to Scott who was laughing. "And don't even think about it, dude. I know a lot of crap about you."

Scott raised his hands in surrender, still laughing, and Stiles turned back to Quinn.

"That is a secret I will take to my grave."

* * *

Her mom doesn't like Stiles. Quinn's not sure why—honestly, he's _adorable_ -but that's the truth of it. Her mom doesn't like her boyfriend. (She wonders what it says about her that she kind of enjoys that.)

So, Stiles could only really be at her house whole her mother was not home—he wasn't forbidden, per say, they just had to sit in the living room when her mom was home, which was awkward and uncomfortable for _everyone._ And Quinn always felt weird being at the Sherriff's house, so they rarely went there.

Luckily, her mom was never home before 7:30, so after school the two head over in Stile's Jeep. She pulls him inside and up the stairs, to her room, grabs him in a kiss and kicks the door shut. They only had four hours until her mom comes home, and she wasn't going to waste a moment.

Stiles didn't seem to be against this plan, as he took control of the kiss, nipping at Quinn's bottom lip and propelling them both back until her legs hit the bed. Then they were tumbling, down, down, onto a white comforter in a flurry of kisses, shivers, and moans.

They had Stiles' exit timed to the minute—a feat which took a lot of practice and even more luck. His Jeep turned off one end of her street three minutes before her mom turned onto the other end. Those three minutes gave Quinn time to put Stiles' glass in the dishwasher, straighten pillows, put on her pjs, pull Facebook up on her laptop, and scroll down far enough that it looked like she'd been on for a while.

Same as usual, as every other day since she moved back in with her mom, Quinn sat through an uncomfortably silent dinner with the elder blonde, after which she did homework, chatted with Brittany and Santana on her computer, and texted back and forth with Stiles. She also fielded one call from Derek, and one from Scott at Derek's insistence, but both calls were short and to the point—no, she had not heard from Rachel, yes, she would call when she did.

She went to bed; sure she would be doing it all again tomorrow.

* * *

Wednesday morning started out normally; business as usual until lunch.

Quinn went to a quick Glee meeting before class, kissed Stiles against her locker until the bell rang, then went to math, where she got back the pop quiz she thought she'd failed yesterday. (C+, so not too bad.)

Afterwards there was turning in a book report in English, verb conjugations in Spanish, and more locker Stiles combinations that were really her favorite part of the day.

When lunch rolled around, Quinn met Stiles at his locker, and they walked to the cafeteria together, hand clasped. They stood in line and got their trays of what the school considered "food," then sat at the usual spot.

Quinn looked around the oddly silent table. Santana and Brittany were eating with the Cheerio's today—Quinn had waved to them earlier—and Puck only showed up every once in a while since Rachel had been gone, which really left the wolves and Allison at the table. All of whom were being suspiciously quiet and downcast.

"What? What's going on?"

Nobody answered, though Quinn did notice Scott's fist clenching on the table, before he slid it underneath and out of sight.

"Seriously, guys, what's up?" Silence. "Somebody please tell me what's going on!"

"Yeah, Allison," Scott bit out, "why don't you tell them what's going on?" He rose from the table, swinging his backpack over his shoulder roughly and storming off, ignoring Allison's pleading "Scott, wait!"

Isaac stood up slowly, giving Allison a small, meant-to-be-reassuring smile. "I'll go make sure he doesn't wolf out or anything."

Allison, who had half-risen from her chair, sat down again with a sigh and a rod, and Isaac picked up his stuff and followed Scott's path quietly.

Stiles was practically _vibrating_ in his seat, so Quinn shook her head, gave him a peck on the lips, and smiled.

"Go on."

Stiles thanked her with another sweet kiss, before trailing after his best friend and Isaac.

"Okay, what was that about?" Quinn gave Allison a level stare. "Spill."

Allison sighed, staring down at her hands for a minute. Quinn watched the brunette visibly steel herself before looking up.

"My father has decided that I'm too close to too many dangerous things. So we're moving. He told me this morning."

"Seriously?"

Allison nodded, downcast. "Scott's not taking it very well."

"Where are you moving to?" Erica spoke for the first time since Quinn sat down, sounding strangely like the girl she'd been before she was bitten.

"Not sure yet. My dad doesn't usually tell me until we're halfway there. I have this theory that he doesn't know himself until then." She sighed again. "But I know it'll be far away from here."

"When do you leave?" Quinn asked.

"On Sunday."

"That's…quick."

Allison shrugged. "That's how we've always done it. He tells me, we get a few days to pack, and then we're gone.

She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

"I really don't want to go." She sounded heartbroken, and Quinn couldn't blame her. She would miss the brunette. They weren't friends for very long, but they had bonded.

"Want me to come over after school on Friday? I can help you pack. We'll have a sleepover."

"Yeah," Erica nodded, an earnest smile on her face. "I'll help too."

Allison grinned. "Okay. That sounds good."

"And of course _I_ will be there," Lydia appeared behind Quinn, making her jump. "I can't send off my best friend without a proper goodbye."

Allison just nodded in response, leaning into Lydia with a grateful smile when the girl sat down next to her.

They spent the rest of lunch in silence.

* * *

Friday dawned bright and early and _too soon._ Quinn wasn't ready to lose a friend, thank you very much.

But it was happening. So she packed an overnight bag along with her school supplies, ate some breakfast (pop-tarts—what she wouldn't give for some of Rachel's pancakes right now) and sat on the front steps to wait for her boyfriend.

His Jeep rounded the corner five or so minutes later, and Quinn jumped up to meet it. She hopped into the front before Stiles had the chance to get out—he liked opening her door for her, which was sweet and adorable and made her want to swoon like a cheesy romance novel heroine. She waved to Scott in the backseat, and he gave her a sad, sleepy smile in return, before leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes, obviously intending to catch a little more sleep before school.

Setting her stuff on the floor by her feet, she reached over and intertwined her fingers with Stiles', both keeping quiet for the sake of Scott's nap.

(She already felt bad enough that Stiles had banished him to the backseat whenever she was in the Jeep, she certainly wasn't going to interrupt his sleep.)

The drive to school was silent, Scott leaving them with a quick wave when they parked.

This time around, Quinn waited in her seat for Stiles to go around the front and open her door, giving him a peck on the lips in thanks. She left her overnight in the Jeep—she'd grab it on the way to Allison's car at the end of the day.

The morning went by quickly, passing in a semi-stereotypical blur, to the point that Quinn wasn't even sure she went to the right classes. At lunch, she and Stiles went to a glee meeting—pointless, really, without Rachel to annoy them all into staying focused, if only to make the small girl _shut up_ about it.

After glee, there were more fuzzy classes, with the notable exception of sixth period, which she may or may not have spent making out with Stiles in his Jeep and which was definitely not fuzzy or blurry or hazy at all. (Except when he made her see stars; she's really not sure what happened after _that_.)

The end of school came slowly and yet far too fast—Quinn wasn't ready to say goodbye to a friend.

The bell rang, and she and Erica, who was in last period with her, made their way first to the Jeep, for Quinn's bag, then to Allison's car. Erica—who had called it that morning via group text—settled into the front, while Quinn slumped in the backseat. Lydia had opted to drive herself, which was fine by Quinn, since the other girl scared her a little.

Okay, a lot.

The drive to Allison's was quick and rather somber, Lydia's car trailing behind. They followed Allison up to her bedroom when they got to the house, Allison opening her bedroom door with a sigh.

"I knew I shouldn't have unpacked." The brunette flopped down face first on to her bed, making an aggravated noise.

"Well, this is depressing," Lydia commented. "If we're going to send you off, we're going to do it with a little less moping and a little more alcohol." The girl pulled a bottle from her backpack, sending Erica down the stairs for shot glasses, which the other blonde did after a moment of grumbling under her breath.

Lydia's grin seemed rather ominous to Quinn, and she wondered, not for the first time, if Lydia really was the puppet master and the rest of the world just her silly, little, puppets.

While Erica was gone—Quinn could hear her rummaging downstairs—Lydia picked up a small remote off of the bed and pushed a button, loud music filling the room, loud enough to make Quinn wince.

"Doesn't that bother you?" she asked the shorter girl.

Lydia shrugged "Nope."

Allison made a grab for the tiny remote. "Lydia, my dad…"

"Is making you move. He can deal with it."

* * *

They had almost everything packed up in a couple of hours—Allison had kept all the boxes from before, and declared that constantly moving around had the advantage of a limited accumulation of _stuff_ to pack. Quinn was honestly surprised they'd been so productive, considering the bottle Lydia had produced earlier (and another filched from Mr. Argent's stock when he ran out to get more boxes) had been emptied. In short, the four were very, _very_ drunk—well, Allison was. The three werewolves were well on their way, however.

The foursome collapsed down, Lydia and Allison on the bed, Quinn on the floor, and Erica on the desk chair. Quinn looked around the room, tipsy and dazed, at the walls bare of photos, empty closet, the boxes stacked in the hall for Mr. Argent to load on to the U-Haul.

"Now what?" Erica asked, also surveying the room, almost upside down on the chair.

Quinn's stomach growled loudly. "I vote food." It growled again, sounding suspiciously like Derek when he was pouty and trying to convince them all to do housework, making the other three laugh. " _A lot_ of food."

Lydia nodded in agreement, so Allison picked up her phone. "The fridge is empty. Pizza or Chinese?"

Chinese food won three-to-one, so Allison placed an order for delivery and the group found themselves wandering down the stairs.

"Well…we packed the TV, but I think there's some board games still in the hall closet…" Allison trailed off with a shrug. Lydia only raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow before focusing back on her phone, and Erica was occupied with exploring the living room—bare except for the couch, so she must be a bit drunker than Quinn previously thought—so Quinn took it upon herself to answer the brunette.

"Board games could be fun. Just not Monopoly. _Anything_ but Monopoly."

They settled on The Game of Life—not Lydia, who sat down on the floor to play with them begrudgingly and with much complaint—and played until the doorbell rang. Allison's dad had gone out—without explanation, and Quinn felt bad that she wondered if her wolfy friends were going to be alive tomorrow—and so the girls got up to answer the door, tipsy enough to decide that it'd be better for _all_ of them to go, safety in numbers and all.

A vaguely familiar voice called out "delivery!," but Quinn was too far under the influence to place it. They stumbled to the door, giggling and shushing each other, sliding on the floor in their socks.

Allison shushed them all again, laughing, then turned and opened the door. The four erupted into giggles all over again as Scott and Stiles sheepishly held up bags of Chinese food.

"We intercepted the delivery guy," Stiles explained, moving further into the room and pressing a light kiss on Quinn's hair. He nodded to the glass in her hand. "What are we drinking?"

Quinn shrugged, looking at the contents of her glass, a light pink-purple colored liquid three-quarters of the way down.

"I don't know. Lydia made it."

Stiles just grinned, taking her glass from her and downing it. He coughed.

"Oh my god, that's terrible. What the hell did you put in this?"

Lydia shrugged, looking both innocent and devious at the same time. "A little bit of apple juice, a little bit of vodka, some cherry cough syrup."

"Dude, seriously?" Scott sniffed the glass in Allison's hand. "That's disgusting."

"Is that even safe?" Erica asked.

"I didn't put much in," Lydia answered. "Not enough to do any damage, that is. Just a normal dose, the amount you'd take for a cough."

Quinn frowned at her empty glass. "I'm never drinking anything you give me ever again."

Stiles shook his head. "Good plan, Wolfgirl. And good news—Scott and I brought provisions. Right, buddy?"

Scott gave them a sheepish grin, and held up a plastic convenience store bag.

"How the hell did you guys manage to get alcohol?" Erica eyed them suspiciously. "Scott looks like he just turned 15, and everyone in this town knows who Stilinski is—and who his dad is. No one would sell to either of you."

"Yeah….we had a little help."

The doorbell rang, and the door opened. They all turned to look, Allison's eyes widening as she realized people were pouring into her house, led by one Noah Puckerman.

"And that help had conditions. Party anyone?"

* * *

Quinn pushed her way through clumps of gyrating teenagers, towards Allison where she stood with Lydia and Scott in the corner.

"What's your dad gonna do if he comes back to all of this?"

Allison shrugged. "Probably freak out. But he is making me move, so he can deal."

Quinn glanced at the cup in Allison's hand, confused about the very non-Allison reaction, then at Scott. "Drunk?"

Scott nodded. "Yep."

"Cool." Quinn gave them a smile, watching Allison lean into Scott and snuggle her face into his shoulder.

She slid an arm around Stiles' waist, letting him lead her out of the room.

* * *

Quinn and Rachel used to watch 'How I Met Your Mother' during sleepovers, when midnight had passed and they were too tired to do _anything_ but not tired enough to sleep. And if Quinn ever took anything away from those late-night marathons, it was that _nothing good happens after two a.m._ It's a rule she's decided to live by.

But every rule has the exception, and tonight was it.

By 1:45, the impromptu party had ended, and Scott, the only truly sober one in the bunch, loaded everyone left behind into a van that Quinn has no idea how he got. He refused to answer any questions, driving them in silence, aside from quiet radio sounds that she was too tired to attempt to identify.

Scott drove them into the woods, which would have been creepy if it wasn't _Scott_ , and stopped. He herded everyone out of the mysterious van, and led them deeper into the woods, bringing them to a semi-clearing with a giant old stump in the middle. Quinn laid her head on Stiles' shoulder as the group stood around, all watching Scott. He pulled a backpack from behind the stump, unzipping it open and pulling out a bottle of champagne. He tossed the backpack to Stiles.

"You might need to watch him with those, Quinn."

Quinn furrowed her brow, craning her neck to see the contents of the bag.

"Scott? What made you think giving Stiles fireworks was a good idea?"

"When is giving Stiles anything a good idea?" Jackson asked, throwing an arm around Lydia's shoulders.

Scott gave him a look, then turned away to face Allison, a small smile on his face. He held up the bottle of champagne.

"Allison…" He trailed off, and the others shifted to attention, realizing that this was important, even through their various drunken hazes. Quinn examined the group gathered there while Scott paused—Jackson and Lydia huddled together next to Danny, Erica sitting cross-legged on the ground at Boyd's feet, Isaac lounging against a tree a couple feet away, eyes intent on Scott. Allison was on the other of Stiles, and the nine of them formed a semi-circle around Scott and the stump.

"Allison," Scott continued. "You turned my world upside down. In a good way, for the most part. The part about your dad wanting to kill me was a little less awesome than the rest, but you get my point."

We all gave a little laugh at that, even Allison who was wiping her eyes.

"And you made my life brighter, and anchored me. You got me into trouble," another laugh, "but it was worth it. And now you're leaving, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do without you. So I've gathered together all of your friends," Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. " _Most_ of your friends," he amended, "to say goodbye. So know that you'll be missed."

He shrugged, smiling and holding up the bottle of champagne. "So…to Allison."

He popped the cork, holding the bottle away from his body so his clothes wouldn't get covered as the alcohol bubbled out.

"To Allison!" the rest of the group echoed. Allison was crying quietly, grinning at all of them.

Scott took a swig of the bottle, then passed it to Allison. She took her own swallow, passing it to Stiles. "Is this the only bottle you brought?" she asked Scott. He shook his head no, pointing to the stump.

"Behind the dead tree."

"Plus the fireworks," Stiles chimed in.

Quinn gently pried the bag from Stiles' hand. "Yeah, honey, no. You're not going to be doing this part. We all want to leave the woods alive tonight."

* * *

Saturday saw hangovers and long teary goodbyes, and on Sunday morning they all gathered on Allison's driveway and waved her off.

And then she was gone.

Scott retreated for the rest of the long weekend—they had Monday off school for some bureaucratic thing—and they let him be, even Stiles.

Quinn spent Sunday and most of Monday crashed out on Stiles' couch with him, watching B movies and making out during the boring parts.

Tuesday, unfortunately, meant school. So Monday night, Quinn went home and finished up some last minute homework before going to bed.

Stiles picked her up Tuesday morning, and the day passed uneventfully…at least, until the break before last period.

She was on her way to last period, yes wandering the hall for any friends to wave to, when she it. Well, when she saw _her._

Standing across the hall, waiting outside of the admin office, was Rachel. The brunette was looking directly at Quinn with an unreadable expression. Quinn smiled and lifted a hand to wave, only to have Rachel turn away and pretend to be reading something on her cell phone. Quinn let her hand fall, not noticing the bell ring as she watched Rachel disappear into the office, never acknowledging the blonde.

It wasn't quite the way she'd expected the moment to go. She'd expected squealing and giggling and hugs, gossip and story swapping and HIMYM marathons.

She definitely expected something other than cold indifference.

It had been three months, after all.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

**A/N: Kayla here sorry I took so long I was going to update this over the weekend and I got distracted by my Playstation 2 and Pewdiepie on Youtube but I'm getting to it finally.**

* * *

Scott looked around the school hallway to see all the couples holding hands and just being couples in general and his heart twinged with sadness. He missed seeing Allison every day, but they both were determined to try the long distance thing and make it work. But they've been getting distant over the past few weeks. Allison and her parents moved to somewhere in the state of Virginia but Scott never heard of the town before. But Scott wasn't going to let that get him down. He just started to spend more time with one of the new wolves in the pack, Isaac Lahey. Turns out he wasn't a bad guy at all, today they were actually just hanging out at the mall waiting for a movie to start. Normally Scott would go to the movies with Stiles but Stiles planned a date with Quinn. Scott was happy for Stiles, finally finding someone as nice as Quinn Fabray to be with.

Thinking of Quinn made Scott think of Rachel. He hadn't heard from her in quite a while. He kept texting her to make sure she was alright but she never answered. Quinn mentioned seeing Rachel the other day outside of the office but she was acting weird. And when Scott saw her in math class the other day she didn't even acknowledge him. He wondered what happened on her trip that changed her. Not like he could ask her, she wouldn't talk to him. So Scott decided to leave the girl alone until she decided to talk to him.

For the next few days Scott spent a lot of time hanging out with Isaac. He barely talked to Allison anymore and Stiles was always with Quinn. But they had plans to hang out and do a massive video game marathon over the weekend so it was going to be a good weekend for them.

"Scott do you want to share a large popcorn or get separate popcorn?" Isaac asked breaking Scott out of his day dream.

"Oh, um separate," Scott said. Isaac got the snacks since Scott bought the tickets and they made their way into the theater. They were going to see the new Resident Evil movie. Stiles wasn't a big fan of zombies so Scott's new friendship with Isaac will work out for him being able to go see the zombie movies that come to theaters.

"How's Allison?" Isaac asked.

"She's good," Scott said not really wanting to talk about his ever so distant relationship with his girlfriend.

"Have you two talked much since she moved away?" Isaac asked popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

"Not really," Scott said as he ate some popcorn.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure she's just trying to get used to her new school," Isaac said. Scott nodded not really sure what to say. The start of the movie couldn't have come soon enough. Right away Scott saw a couple making out and he rolled his eyes. He saw Isaac give him a sidelong glance and then throw popcorn at the couple. Scott nearly choked on his drink trying not to laugh out loud at Isaac. Soon other people joined in with throwing popcorn and candies at the couple because their kissing was becoming disturbingly loud. Finally the couple had enough and got up and walked out of the theater. If they really wanted to make out they should have just went somewhere and parked.

The next day found Scott and Stiles in Scott's room playing Halo on the Xbox. This was a good distraction from the fact he hasn't heard from Allison in a few days despite all the texts he sent her and the voice mails he left her. Truth be told, Scott missed Allison so much, but he didn't know how long he could keep up with not speaking to her like this. His phone finally rang, it was call from Allison. Stiles paused the game and Scott took the call.

"Hey, Beautiful," he said smiling.

"Hi, Scott," Allison said, there was something off in her voice. She sounded way to serious. "We need to talk." "What is it?" Scott asked pacing around his room.

"I don't think this long distance thing is going to work I think we should see other people," Allison said. Scott sat down on his bed and stare into space.

"So you want to break up?" he asked trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Scott, it's just not working and I don't want us to end in a screaming fight where we hate each other," Allison said.

"No, I understand, um, well good luck at your new school," Scott said.

"Thanks," Allison said briefly and she hung up. Scott dropped his phone on his bed and looked over at Stiles.

"I'm sorry, Scott," Stiles said. Scott wasn't sure what to say. He kind of just sat there in silence for a few minutes before he decided to distract himself with more Halo, trying to not let the fact that Allison really hurt him show.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's so short. I woke up and started writing it right away. But here it is. And I will try and write more often but I'm starting a new job here in about a week and a half so my updates might be short like this until I get used to things at my new job.**

 

 


	31. Chapter Thirty

**AN: Hi guys! My name is Jules and I like to torture you. That's all I will say for now. There'll be more at the end of this thing. (Oh, and to the person who wanted a certain Rachel relationship,….Halberry is the current plan for this story, but I've thrown in a little something for you towards the end of this chapter…)**

* * *

He was beginning to think it was magic, despite the fact that he firmly believed magic did not exist.

(He usually ignored his own fairly magical existence when he argued about this with…himself.)

But how else could he explain this… _pining?_ Besides he'd never believed demons existed either, and the Moon knows he was wrong about _that_.

Three months was a really long time to wait for someone he'd barely known for longer than a couple of weeks.

It had to be magic.

There really was no other logical explanation. She was, after all, just some stubborn little human, albeit one who possessed the knowledge of how to _kill_ him, painfully, and who was still in _high school,_ of all things. (This all added up to a giant, flashing neon sign that alternated between BAD NEWS and DANGER, which just solidified the magic theory as a whole.)

And yet…she called to his wolf more than anyone ever had before. She stirred him up and made him calm. She brought out a possessiveness and protectiveness he never knew he was capable of.

She confused him and aroused him, made him want to have a life with her and made him want to run as far and as fast as he possibly ever could.

Except she ran first. For three months. And, damn it all to hell, he _missed_ her.

Yeah, Derek missed Rachel.

* * *

The first week had been…tolerable, so long as he didn't let himself think about the men in the car she'd gotten in to. (If he didn't hate them so much he'd be happy to talk cars with them, because their Impala was _cherry._ )

Then came the weekend, and Derek found himself spending it by forcing the pack to run trails and train and soar, while Stiles commented from the weathered porch and Quinn watched with wide eyes in between texting on her phone.

It had taken four days after Rachel running out her front door for Derek to convince Scott to give him her phone number. He figured the intense training was an adequate punishment for making him wait so long.

Perks of being the Alpha and all.

Of course, having Rachel's phone number didn't really matter much if the girl in question never answered the damn thing.

The third week of no Rachel is when Derek discovered Erica. Well, less "discovered" and more "unintentionally informed by Scott." The younger wolf had been rambling on about his day and had mentioned the blonde girl's seizures, how they seemed to get worse each year.

Derek had tracked down her hospital room, made the offer, and viola, a new wolf.

Boyd came in week five, literally. Scott and Isaac brought the tall boy to Derek, by Boyd's own request.

His pack was now seven strong, ten if he counted Stiles, Quinn, and Allison.

He still missed her.

* * *

He'd checked on with Quinn every few days to see if she'd heard from her best friend—the blonde swears it was every day, but she's wrong. Really.

His own messages to the MIA brunette were varied and vague, and, as time went on, usually included magic-bashing and accusations of witchcraft.

(There may also have been requests to return to town, but they were all pleasant and calm and collected. There was no pleading. Or offers of food, jewelry, or potentially sexual favors. None. At all.)

By the end of the second month, Derek was firmly resolved to forget about the little hunter girl. He didn't take into account that as an unemployed werewolf who's only "friends" were in school every day, he didn't really have anything to keep him occupied.

He tried though, he really, really, tried. He'd worked out until the burn was excruciating. He'd get in the Camaro and _drive_ , make excuses to go to the store or to one of the neighboring towns. He spent a lot of money on gas in month three.

By the end of month three, Derek was about going crazy. He was close to simply tracking the girl down—he'd given up on convincing himself that she was just _some_ girl that he didn't _need_ —when Scott came barreling into the house, as always, blathering about his day. Derek had pretty much tuned him out, nodding and "hmm"-ing every time the kid took a breath, accustomed to the sound now that Scott had become comfortable with Derek, to the point of treating the older wolf like a big brother.

"So Coach made us do laps for the entire practice because Jackson wouldn't shut up and then Stiles kept muttering cupcake, which I don't understand but it seemed to piss Coach off even more. And then Quinn said she saw Rachel standing outside of the office but Rachel didn't say anything to her and didn't look at her and Quinn said she thought Rachel had a cast on her arm and Isaac brought everyone at the lunch table cookies and they were chocolate chip which is my favorite kind of cookie-"

"What?" Derek's hand shot out to grip Scott's arm tightly, halting both the boy's words and his body.

"What what?"

"What did you just say?"

Scott tilted his head to the side, giving Derek a contemplating look. He smirked.

"What? That Isaac brought everyone chocolate chip cookies? They really are my favorite, you know, and Isaac's were really, really good. The chocolate chips were all melt-y and I think he threw in some cinnamon because there was a hint of flavor-"

Derek growled, tightening his hold on the younger boy's arm.

"Not the part about the cookies. Before that."

"The part about Jackson mouthing off to Coach, so Coach made us all run laps all practice?"

Derek narrowed his eyes. "What do you think?"

"That Jackson is a jackass?"

"Scott."

Scott grinned. "You mean the part about…?"

"Damn it Scott, the part about Rachel. You mentioned Rachel."

Scott pat Derek on the shoulder with his free hand. "Oh, that. All you had to was ask, Derek. No need to yell."

Derek waited, still gripping Scott's arm. Scott just smiled, looking around the living room.

"I like what we've done in here," he said conversationally. "The couch is a lot nicer than the old one. The paint color is nice too. We should put this color in the front hallw-"

"Scott."

"Yeah?"

"Rachel."

"What about her?"

Derek growled, eyes flashing red. "I swear to god Scott if you don't tell me what I want to know, I will kick your ass so far in you will still be tasting it in six months."

"Okay, okay. Sorry, dude, god." He looked down at his arm, turning white around Derek's hand. "Can you let go of my arm though, please?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, dropping Scott's arm with an expectant look.

"Thank you." He flopped back onto the couch, rolling his eyes when Derek pushed his feet off the new-to-his-house coffee table. "So, Quinn said she was on her way to last her last period, and she saw Rachel outside the admin office. She said that she went to wave, but Rach turned away."

"And the cast?"

"Q said she thought there was a cast on Rachel's arm, but she wasn't sure."

"And?"

"And what?" Scott shrugged. "That's all I know."

Derek nodded. "Okay. Go run laps."

"Dude, what?" Scott gave him a look not unlike that of a scolded puppy, the irony of which was not lost on Derek.

"You heard me. Laps. Around the house. For being a pain in my ass. Go." He put some alpha mojo into the last word, pulling a little on the pack bonds in the meantime, calling the rest of the pack to the house for some training.

Scott sighed, standing up slowly and raising his arms above his head in a lazy stretch.

"How many laps?"

Derek shrugged, smirking. "Until I tell you to stop. Or the last pack member gets here. Whichever happens first."

"You suck, by the way," Scott threw out over his shoulder as he wandered into the hall. The front door shut with a thud and Derek let himself fall back onto the couch. He raised up to shimmy his phone from his back pocket, and flipped it open. (Scott and Stiles enjoyed poking fun at his "dinosaur" of a flip phone, but it made calls and texts, which is all Derek really needed.) He opened up his contacts and scrolled through it, down to the R's. His thumb hovered over the center button, _RB_ highlighted.

He sighed, set the phone down on the table, stood and wandered into the kitchen. He filled a glass with water, watching out of the window for Scott to jog by. He emptied the glass, setting in the sink, and walked back into the living room, staring at the phone still open on the table.

Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, Derek scooped up the phone and hit the _select_ button, opening up the contact info page. He opened up a text message, scratching the back of his head.

_Heard you were back in town._

He hovered over _Send_ for a minute, wondering if he should add more or leave it aloof. _Stop being such a little girl,_ he told himself.

He hit _Send_ , then tossed the phone in the direction of the couch, putting it out of his sight in the hopes it would be out of his mind.

That is how the saying goes, right?

* * *

It did not leave his mind. Not through training, sparring, pack dinner. Not through Stiles' inane commentary on _everything_ that was happening—as if it was his sovereign duty to become the perfect embodiment of Captain Obvious—or Jackson's asshole posturing.

The text stayed in his head all afternoon.

He didn't check his phone until after his pack had cleared out, returned to their own homes and parents and left him all alone.

There was no message.

He dropped the phone onto the table, pulling off his shirt and heading into the woods for a run. He ran for a good ten miles, full speed but fully human, showering when he got back to the house. He left the phone on the table and headed to bed, deciding wait for her to come to him.

He figured she would eventually.

* * *

She didn't.

And, really, Derek thought waiting a week to track her down showed some serious restraint on his part. He is, after all, generally considered to be a very impatient man.

So he waited until the girl in question would be in her last class on Friday afternoon, drove to the high school, and parked in the lot, facing the doors.

He heard the bell ring inside the building and sat up straighter, watching for knee socks and a tiny skirt, long brown hair and big brown eyes. He watched teenagers pour from the school, winced at the noise invading his ears. He saw his pack leave—Isaac and Scott following Stiles and Quinn to the Jeep, Lydia sliding into the passenger seat of Jackson's ostentatious Porsche, Danny unlocking his bicycle, Erica and Boyd walking along the sidewalk—but there was no Rachel. At all.

He pulled out his phone and shot a text to Scott. _Was Rachel in school today?_ It read. He snapped the phone closed, waiting.

He saw Scott pull his own phone, some fancy touch screen thing, and tap in an answer.

 _No,_ his phone said a few seconds later. He read the rest of the message with narrowed eyes.

Derek growled and started the car, peeling out of the parking lot with a screech.

_But Quinn overhead her say that she'll be going to that club Harvest Moon tonight. Something about meeting a contact?_

* * *

At ten o'clock, Derek pulled up outside of a warehouse building with a neon sign that read _Harvest Moon_ in orange-yellow letters. Scott had texted that the pack decided to go out dancing too, and had sent him a picture mere moments ago of a very aggravated Jackson squished in a booth between Stiles and Boyd, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else.

Knowing his pack was there made it easier for Derek to actually _go in to_ the club full of writhing teenagers and 20-somethings, full of loud noises and heavy beats that made his bones shake and his ears throb. Not to mention the smells—sweat, lust, semen, alcohol and smoke, it was all there.

He paid his cover, mourning silently the waste of ten dollars, and bee-lined for the booth in the back that held all of his wolves. He sunk down heavily in the seat Erica vacated for him, snagging Scott's water from the younger boy's hand and downing it.

"Why is it so damn _loud_ in here?"

Stiles laughed. "So no one can hear the bad pickup lines."

Derek reached a hand back and tapped the human on the back on the head, turning his face to eye the crowd.

He spotted her almost immediately. Really, how could he not? She had her back to him at first, but he'd recognize that ass anywhere, even clad in leather pants and not a skirt, as it was. Her back was mostly bare—the purple top she had on was low cut to reveal her skin, and as she turned, Derek realized the front was low as well. A fantastic view, but one he'd personally prefer to view in private, not to have displayed for every horny, barely pubescent boy in the dark room.

Her hair and makeup looked normal, at least, which Derek found himself privately grateful about. The clothes were appealing, but he liked the girl as she was, no wardrobe adjustments necessary.

She was dancing, in the middle of the throng, with some pressed against her back like he was trying to absorb into her skin. Derek felt a growl beginning to rise and fought it down. He watched as the man slid his hand around to her stomach, meeting her hands. If Derek wasn't a werewolf, he would've never noticed the small bag pass from the man's fingers to hers, after which the man abruptly walked off of the dance floor and Rachel looked up, her eyes meeting Derek's own.

He stood to walk to her, but paused when she shook her head, a derisive look overcoming her features. He made to walk forward again, watching as she turned away from him.

He was almost half way across the room when he stopped again, freezing in tracks, aghast and alarmed and pissed off and jealous as hell.

Because Rachel had seen him coming for her.

And Rachel had grabbed the nearest body.

And Rachel was kissing Isaac like she starving for it.

* * *

Derek left. He didn't bother to check his phone that night. Or at all for the next week.

She was just some little girl, after all.

It had to be magic.

* * *

**AN: So…**

**Who's mad at me?**

**Everyone?**

**Sorry. Except not really. And yes really. That last bit was hard for me to write. My heart was breaking. I have no idea how I am going to write chapter 32. Since it is going to be…**

… **wait for it…**

**Rachel! Yes, my baby is back and kind of bitchy. Sorry. Not at all sorry, actually.**

**I am, however, sorry that this chapter was a bit short. My Derek skills are very rusty and I really wanted to get the last scene over with but I also wanted it to be the last scene and I didn't think you guys would want to read 2000 words on working out, despite the promise of shirtless werewolves in human form. Mmmm…..**

… **what was I saying?**

**Right….Heart's Fate, my love, you know me so well, and that's all I will say except hello! Lovely to see your name popping up in my emails again. I missed you! And your flailing!**

**Findmywaybacktoyou….I'm sorry, I love you, please don't hate us! We had a good reason to move Allison, and, really, it was kind of either have her move or kill her, and at least with having her move she can cameo, right?**

**I think I had other things I wanted to tell you all, but I have forgotten. So, I guess that's it. Kay's chapter is up next, yayness! And then me again, so I'll see you then. Or well, you'll see me.**

… **you'll see my words?**

**Do I confuse anyone else as much as I confuse myself?**

 

 


	32. Chapter Thirty One

**A/n: Okay so bear with me I'm a bit tired because I've been up since 4:30 am because of work. But I'm slowly working on this chapter I'm sorry it probably won't be long.**

Scott was shocked when he watched Rachel Berry grab Isaac and kiss him. A weird feeling went into the chest as he watched the kiss. He looked over to see Derek looking blankly at the scene. He gave Derek a sympathetic smile but Derek walked away. Scott has finally be able to feel better since Allison moved away and broke up with him. Hanging out with Isaac helped him with that. But he wondered what was going on with Rachel. He got up and tried to go talk to her. Ask her what was wrong. But she kept avoiding him. She eventually lost him in the crowd. Scott admitting defeat stopped trying to follow her. He and Isaac looked at each other and seemed to have a silent conversation where they agreed to just leave. Scott went home then and laid down on his bed staring at his ceiling wondering what happened to Rachel that she was acting so different.

"Scott…what's wrong?" His mom came into his room and stopped dead when she saw him staring at the ceiling. Scott sat straight up and looked over at his mom.

"It's nothing mom, I'm fine, just resting a bit before I start on some homework," he lied. It scared him how easy lying to his mother was now. But he couldn't let her find out he was a werewolf, she'd freak out. He knew it. Not to mention it'd freak her out to find out that the guy she went on a date with last was the one who bite him, giving him this curse.

"Is it Allison?" his mom said coming to sit next to him.

"I've moved on from her mom, I'm fine I promise," Scott said giving his mom a smile. Truthfully he hadn't about Allison all night, so he truly was starting to move on from her. He didn't even try texting for a few days, keeping his distance.

"You know you can talk to me, right? I don't want you to shut me out, Scott," Melissa McCall said putting an arm around her son. "You don't have to pretend to be fine if you're not fine." "I know mom, but I am fine, I'm totally 100% fine," Scott said hugging his mom.

"Alright, well I'm going off to work, have a good night and I love you," Melissa said getting up and smoothing out her scrubs.

"Alright, Love you too, mom," Scott said as he watched her walk out of his room. He listened as she grabbed her purse and keys and walk out the front door and get in the car. He heard her start the car and watched as she drove away, he saw a strange man watching the house, Scott looked confused but as soon as he blinked the man was gone. Maybe he shouldn't work on homework tonight, if he was hallucinating men watching his house he probably was more tired than he thought. So he got a quick shower and climbed into bed falling asleep almost instantly.

He had been stalking the group for a while now. He wanted to talk to the werewolves. He watched each and every one of them to see what would be the best approach to convince each one of them to agree to his terms. Klaus Mikaelson wanted nothing more to turn every single one of the werewolves in the pack. He needed more hybrids and the only way to do it was to turn werewolves.

**A/N: sorry it's so I've been trying to get used to a new job this week and I'm sore and tired right now. It might not even make sense to you, I don't know. But here it is. And ooh Klausy poo showed up in this chapter. Do you think he'll actually turn any of the pack?**

 

 


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

**AN: Hi guys! My name is Jules, and I keep promises.**

**And, as promised, this chapter is chalk full of Rachel! Yay! In fact, the entire chapter is Rachel’ pov. Well, most of it. There may be some Quinn. I haven’t quite decided yet.**

**Also as promised…this is the point where you might start to hate Rachel, if the kiss with Isaac didn’t already do it for you. And hopefully you shall not blame Isaac for that, because he was an innocent bystander. You’ll see.**

**Go, but cautiously, and with the knowledge that this Rachel will not be herself, okay? Be safe, babies. I’m so, so, sorry.**

**Go on now, go.**

* * *

Rachel stepped lightly through the front door. Partially to keep quiet, and partially because even now, after all this time, she wasn’t entirely sure the floorboards would hold—the Hale house wasn’t exactly structurally sound, after all.

By the sounds around her, her targets were upstairs. She wondered how much time she’d have before they’d notice the bodies in the yard. She was actually surprised they hadn’t come running when they heard the shots. Gunfire isn’t exactly _quiet_ , and with the targets super-hearing…well, she was fully prepared to have them rush her at moment, in any case.

Taking down the first three had been east—a cakewalk, really. The girl went down first, a disdainful look morphing into shock as the bullet ripped into her chest. The perfectly styled hair, _“strawberry blonde, thank you very much,”_ was a stark contrast to the grass as she fell.

Her body crumpling down provided the perfect distraction for her to hot the second target with a well-aimed bullet, his usual smugness melting into horror.

The bullet had ailed right through his aviator glasses, squishing in to, and then out of, his eye, clear through the back of his head.

The third on the lawn was easiest, so dismayed and alarmed at his friends’ deaths that he didn’t think to defend himself from her. He got a hit to the heart while she was mid-stride, walking calmly towards the rundown house as he fell.

The entire exchange took mere minutes, maybe less.

It was enough time, however, for the wolves up the stairs to get on the defensive. She’d have to be extra careful.

She made it to the top of the stairs, and, confident that her targets were in the only used bedroom in the house, tiptoed to the left.

She slipped into the room, hand and gun behind her back, out of sight. The three targets in the room spun to face her, and she smiled as they all immediately went from defensive to stark relief.

“Rachel, thank god. Have you been in the house long?”

“Someone shot…but you’re okay, right?”

“Did you see anyone on your way up here?”

The three targets spoke at once, and she schooled her face to look blank.

“Nope, didn’t see a soul.”

Two of them turned away, back to the window, watching for someone that was not out there. The third, however—the weaker, _human_ one—watched her with wary eyes.

She smiled at him, bringing a finger to her lips as she lifted the gun from behind her back.

His eyes widened, and he took a step back. “Shit, she’s…”

Rachel shot, swung left and shot again. The first bullet went into the boy’s chest, the second between his friends eyes. She looked up as the second body thudded to the floor, eyes open and wide.

“Rach, baby…what?”

Rachel turned to face the third man, who looked confused, devastated.

She raised the gun.

“Rachel, no. You don’t have to…” His reached a hand out, shaking his head, watching her entreatingly. “I’m your husband,” he plead.

“No, Derek. You’re a dog with a tendency to bite.” She smiled coldly. “And dogs that bite get put down.”

She squeezed the trigger, watching his body arc and fall, his eyes still begging her, even as the light faded from them.

Pity, that. He always did have beautiful eyes, for a monster.

She turned away from the fallen form, walking past the already slightly cooler bodies of Scott and Stiles, out to the yard where Jackson, Lydia, and Danny lay reaching for each other.

In the car, she sent a quick text out and then drove, back into town.

She still had one wolf to go, after all.

She pulled up in front of the house, using her key to get in.

“Quinn?” she called.

“In the kitchen!”

She followed the voice into the kitchen at the back of the house, making sure the gun was tucked into the back of her waistband, hidden. She pulled on her shirt to cover it as she pushed open the swinging door.

Quinn looked up, smiling, as Rachel entered the room. The blonde was kneading dough for a pie crust—for Thanksgiving, most likely. Quinn turned back to it, after the two exchanged hellos.

“Have you seen Stiles this afternoon?” Quinn asked her. “He said he was going to Derek’s, but he should’ve been back by now.”

“Yeah,” Rachel answered, easing the gun from its hiding place. “I was just over there.”

“Oh, good. Did he say when he was coming home?”

“He’s not.”

Quinn looked up, confused, her hair a golden halo around her head. Her face blanched when she registered the gun, hands moving protectively to her rounded belly.

“What?” she asked.

“He’s not coming home, Quinn. He’s dead.”

“No.” the blonde started shaking her head in denial, backing away from the island counter separating them.

Rachel clicked off the safety.

“Yes. Trust me, I know.” She raised the gun to point at the blonde’s heart. “I did kill him, after all.”

She squeezed the trigger and the blonde went down, hands still cradling her swollen stomach, tears tracking down her face.

“Sorry, Q. You really were the best friend I ever had. Too bad you weren’t human.”

Rachel spun around to leave, stopping short at the sight of a horrified Allison standing in the doorway.

“Rachel?”

She raised the gun again. “Hello, Allison.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Rachel smiled. “Something that should’ve been done a long time ago. They’re monsters, Allison. They needed killing.”

Allison eyes the firearm pointed to her head.

“And me? I’m human. A hunter, even. Like you.”

“Yes,” Rachel answered, giving the other brunette a shrug. “But you’re also part of the problem. Thank you, by the way, for being here,” she added. “Saved me the trouble of going through your father.”

And then Allison was down too, Rachel stepping over her body to leave. She stored the gun in the trunk of her car and got in the driver’s seat.

Her work was done here.

* * *

**AN: the end.**


	34. Chapter Thirty Two Part Two

**AN: Okay, so this is part two to Chapter Thirty Two. You didn’t really think I’d do that to you, did you?**

**Oh ye of little faith.**

**Go read now. Go.**

* * *

Rachel woke when she landed on the floor. Her sheets were tangled around her legs, one ankle still hooked on the edge of her mattress.

Her heart was pounding in time with the headache forming behind her eyes. She tried to shake off the dream, reaching for her bed to use as leverage to get up off the floor.

She winced, arching her back once vertical. The very _hard_ floor. She considered, not for the first time, if it would be worth just moving the mattress to the floor. She’d been falling out of bed pretty often since she’d gotten back to Beacon Hills. She sighed, checking the clock.

The red letters read 4:00, and she sighed again. She eyed the bed, knowing that attempting further sleep would be pointless.

She’d had nights like these enough times to know.

Instead, she began her new morning ritual, albeit earlier than she normally would—being with Sam and Dean again always rubbed off on her, even if she was only with them a minute.

The ritual went thusly: first, Rachel would check the wardings—the salt lines, sigils and symbols (in black light paint, of course) scattered in, on, and around her house—to make sure they were all intact and functional.  She would then move on to the traps, checking both for functionality and to see if anything had been caught in them while she was sleeping.

The next step was something Dean insisted on—Sam would usually scoff and open up his computer. Rachel and Dean, however, would push furniture (and Sam) out of the way, clearing enough space for them to stand side by side. The two of them would then run through the Winchester version of katas, redesigned for monster hunting, mixed in with a little tai chi.

They would also spar, but Rachel made do with a punching bag and practice dummies, now that she was back home, and alone.

Afterward, she’d go for a run—a Rachel amendment to the morning, not a Winchester one.

Then she’d shower, eat breakfast, brush her teeth, and check the weapons.

After all of that, her day could begin, whatever that entailed.

Today, it entailed avoiding—a quickly-becoming regular part of her daily routine.

She probably shouldn’t have kissed Isaac Lahey last night. Not that she regretted the act; she just wished it had been a different person. Someone who wasn’t a werewolf—or part of Derek’s pack. It made it infinitely more complicated than it already was.

It was about eight when Rachel finished her morning wake-up. With nothing else to do, she sank down on the couch and put _Funny Girl_ on, curling up in a sweatshirt shed stolen from Dean.

(Dean’s clothes dwarfed her, but Sam’s _drowned_ her, so it was always Dean’s clothes she ended up stowing in her duffle bag.)

She spent most of Saturday and part of Sunday this way—snuggled up on the couch with tea, snacks. And an extensive DVD collection. It was the first time she’d relaxed since she’d gotten to town a week ago.

So, of course, it couldn’t last.

About three quarters of the way into _Mary Poppins_ , late afternoon on Sunday, her phone began to buzz.

And buzz, and buzz, and buzz.

After around 10 minutes, Rachel finally became frustrated enough to pause the movie and pick up the phone. The caller id read “Unknown,” and Rachel answered with a cautious “hello?”

“Rachel Berry?”

She scrunched up her forehead, confused.

“Maybe,” she answered. “Who the hell is this?”

She could _hear_ him smirk, the mysterious man on the other end of the line. It annoyed her.

“This is Mr. Argent. Allison’s father.”

No longer a mystery, then.

“Oh! Hi.” She paused, sitting up straighter and reaching for a pen and some paper. She had a feeling she’d be needing it.

“What’s up?” she asked, after they’d both been silent long enough to make it extremely awkward.

“Hm? Oh, yes. As you know, we’ve left town,” he began.

“I’m aware.”

“Well, I didn’t have a chance to get a hold of you before we left, but I got the information you’d called about a couple weeks back.”

Rachel shot to her feet, sending popcorn to the floor, already running for her wallet and keys.

“That’s awesome, Mr. Argent. Where am I going?”

He rattled off coordinates and they ended the call moments later, as Rachel dove into her car.

She had some very important intel to dig up.

* * *

Monday dawned overcast and grey, the beginnings of a storm brewing in the distance. Rachel did her morning rounds, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt—she had plans to gank a ghost during lunch and did not want to ruin any of her skirts or sweaters, thank you very much. She pulled boots on her feet, threw her hair into a ponytail, put on some light makeup and left, locking the door behind her.

The jeans also served another purpose—if she dressed like normal Rachel, her “friends” might think she was back to the Rachel she was before they left. Jeans were just another tool in pushing them all away.

School was the same as it ever was, dull and uniform. Rachel made it through her first two classes before any of her former group tried to talk to her. She wished it would have been longer.

Scott cornered her as she was coming out of second period, grabbing her by the elbow and steering her onto an empty classroom across the hall.  The door was closed behind them, and Rachel wrenched her arm from the wolf to turn and eye Quinn, standing demurely at the door, one hand pulling at the other in a classic Fabray sign of nervousness.

“What?” Rachel bit out. “I have class.”

“Rachel…” Scott began, then trailed off, looking helplessly at Quinn. The blonde stepped away from the door, tugging on the hem of her blouse.

“We want to know if you’re okay,” the girl said, and Rachel scoffed.

“Aside from being forced into this room for some lame intervention with all of you? Peachy.”

“Really? ‘Cause you’ve been acting like the Blair Witch ever since you came back.”

Rachel eyes Stiles wearily. “Honestly, sometimes I think you just like to hear yourself talk. You’re really not as clever as you think you are. Or are you just trying to impress blondie here? ‘Cause that’s really not hard to do, judging by her track record.”

Quinn took a step back and Stiles mouth slammed shut. Rachel clenched her own jaw, raising an eyebrow.

“If we’re done here?” She spun on her heel, giving the three her back, and pulled open the door. She paused in the open doorway, barely registering the bell ringing.

“Don’t…don’t do this again,” she said, half turning their way. “Whatever…thing, friendship, whatever…that we had before, it’s done now. And I won’t be changing my mind. So just…get over it. I have.” She left the room, letting the door swing closed behind her.

They left her alone the rest of the morning, giving her strange and sad looks whenever they passed her in the hall.

* * *

When lunchtime came around, Rachel dug her keys from her locker, emptying the books from her bag. She heard her name being called as she was walking out, and she paused, turning to see Mr. Shuester leaning out of the entry to the choir room.

“Yes, Mr. Shue?” she asked. He beckoned her forward, and she sighed, checking the time on her phone as she went to stand in the doorway. She leaned against the doorframe, waiting.

“There’s a glee meeting,” he said, gesturing the group gathered in the chairs across the room. “Are you going to join us?”

Rachel barked out a laugh. “No. A world of no.”

“But you love glee,” Kurt protested from his seat next to Mercedes.

“No, I love singing. I actually kind of hate glee.” She grimaced. “A group of people who hate me and refuse to practice and focus and believe talent is enough to win? Not so much.”

“Rachel!” Mr. Shue gave her the pre-lecture look he often gets around her, so she cut him off.

“No, Mr. Shue. You aren’t going to lecture me about this. Or, at least, I’m not going to listen to it. I do actually have places to be. And a glee meeting is not one of those places. Nor will it be in the future. I quit. Have fun trying to win without me.”

She left them silent in her wake as she walked out. Not that she particularly cared—she had a ghost to kill, after all, and that required her full and undivided focus. The rest could wait.

* * *

After lunch came Noah—less pathetic in their questioning than the others, but perhaps more persistent. He had pulled her into a janitor’s closet just before last period, secluding them in darkness. He reached over and flipped on the light.

Rachel eyed him warily. “Hello Noah.”

He watched her for a second, before grabbing her up into a hug. “Hi Rach,” he breathed out, giving her a quick squeeze that lifted her off her feet. He set her down and took a step back.

“Where the fucking hell have you been?” he asked. “’Cause I know you weren’t taking care of some sick aunt for three months. You don’t have an aunt.”

She laughed. “You remember that, but you can’t remember who your first class of the day is.”

He shrugged, waiting. She sighed.

“I was on a mini-road trip, with some friends.”

He smirked. “That’s not an answer.”

“Sure it is. It’s just not the one you wanted.”

It was his turn to laugh now. “You’re a brat.”

She grinned. “Yep.” The bell rang, and she shook her head. “I have to go to class, Noah.” She reached for the doorknob.

“Wait, Rachel.” She stopped, waiting. “Why are you being queen bitch?”

“Excuse me?” She whirled to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You heard me. Why are you being so bitchy to everyone? To Quinn? And those lacrosse kids you’ve been hanging out with?”

“Maybe I’m just being me,” she answered. “Maybe I’m sick of playing nice with everyone.”

“Bullshit. That’s not who you are, Rachel.”

“How do you know? Maybe it is.”

“I’ve known you since we were three years old, Rachel Berry. I know you better than you know you.”

Rachel turned away again, biting her lip. “No, you really don’t.” She slipped out the door before he could answer, making a beeline for the parking lot.

She was so over today, and it was time to go home.

* * *

Rachel hung up her phone with a yawn. Her father’s had called to tell her that they’d be back at the end of next week, but she really wasn’t holding her breath about it. They hadn’t realized she’d been gone for the past three months, so they obviously hadn’t been home in that all time.

She tossed the phone onto her bed, drying her hair with a towel. The shower had been perfect for washing away the day (and the stench of high school misery that surrounded it), and Rachel was honestly ready to fall into bed and sleep until tomorrow. If only the doorbell would stop ringing.

She sighed, pulling Dean’s sweatshirt over her head. She wandered down the stairs, dropping her phone onto the side table, ignoring the buzzing. Derek was being persistent-he’d been calling all afternoon. She pulled open the front door. “For the love of Cas, stop with the doorbell already. Honestly. You’re going to break it.” She crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

Quinn shoved past her and into the house, and Rachel scowled. She moved to let the others past, Scott behind Stiles, with Isaac Lahey trailing awkward-puppy-like after him. He gave her an apologetic look when he came in, closing the door for her and looking as though he’d prefer to be anywhere else at the moment.

She empathized. Immensely.

“Well, now that you’ve all invited yourselves in, I’m asking again. What. Do. You. Want?” 

“We want Rachel back,” Scott declared, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah, Rach. We just want to know what’s up,” Stiles added.

Rachel rolled her eyes, eyeing Quinn. “Nothing to add, Lucy?”

Quinn bristled, shrugged. “Where were you Rachel? What were you doing? Why are you acting like…like me, back before…”

“Back before…before you got pregnant? And lied about the father? And gave the baby to my mother? Is that what you were gonna say? That I’m acting like head cheerleader Queen Q Fabray?”

Quinn’s eyes began to water, and Rachel looked away.

“Well, this was a lovely visit, I thank you very much, but you can go now,” she yanked open the door, gesturing to the porch. “Off you go.”

“Damn it, Rachel.” Scott turned and punched the wall, eyes flashing yellow. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Rachel pulled the gun from the small of her back. “Get out.”

Scott unclenched his fist. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…you made Quinn cry, Rachel. That’s not…the Rachel we know wouldn’t do that.”

She laughed. “The Rachel you know? You met me five minutes ago, Scott. You don’t know anything about me. Or what I’m capable of.” She clicked off the safety. “Do you want to find out?”

Quinn was crying heavily now, and Scott’s jaw ticked. “You won’t shoot me. And even if you do, it’s not silver. I can smell it. You’ll only hurt me.”

Rachel nodded. “true.” She moved her arm. “But it would kill him.”

“Rachel,” Quinn plead, “please stop.”

She looked at the blonde. “Stop what? Being me? Sorry, no can do. Now either get out of my house, or I pull the trigger.”

No one moved. Stiles eyes the gun trained on him nervously.

“Get. The. _Fuck_. Out. Of. My. _Fucking._ House. _Now._ Or so help me god I. Will. _Kill._ Him.”

Stiles opened his mouth, and Quinn slapped her hand over his mouth.

“Okay,” the blonde girl said, nudging Stiles along in front of her. “Okay. You win. We’re gone.”

Stiles left first, Scott pushing Isaac out the door before following. Quinn went last, giving Rachel a teary, undecipherable look as she moved.

Rachel slammed the door shut behind them, sliding down the wood. She heard an engine start, a car peeling out. Minutes later, her phone finally stopped vibrating on the table.

Only then did she finally break down. Only then did she start to cry.

It came in great sobbing gasps, chest heaving, lungs burning. And she cried.

* * *

Quinn still had tears running down her cheeks, and she leaned against Stiles’ shoulder. The four were spread around Derek’s living room, while the alpha wolf in question hid the kitchen, having what sounded like a giant temper tantrum, judging by the sounds.

“Did you get it?” Scott asked her.

She nodded, reaching into her pocket for her phone. She tapped around, pulling up her pictures, and passed the device to Scott.

“That’s the number that called her the day she left,” she said. “All the rest are after, from all of us. Must be them.”

Scott nodded, passing the phone back. “So let’s call them up. Find out what, exactly, happened to our Rachel.”

Quinn memorized the number, and input it into her phone. She hit send, bringing the phone up to her ear, while Stiles rubbed soothing circles on her back.

The line picked up with a gruff “what?”

“Hi. Um. My name is Quinn Fabray. I’m friends with Rachel Berry.” 

“…”

“You don’t need to yell at me, okay. I stole the number from her phone.”

“…”

“The thing is, ever since she came back from being with you, she’s been acting really strange and un-Rachel like. I…we were hoping you could come and make sure it’s really her.”

“…”

“Okay. Thank you.” She hung up, looked up at the others, over to Derek who was scowling in the doorway.

“They’re on their way.”

Stiles clasped her hand in his. “And now we wait.”

* * *

**AN: Hello my loves.**

**First things first, did NO ONE but Findmywaybacktoyou pick up on the husband/pregnancy parts of the first part of this chapter? Because that should have given you all some pretty big hints as to the not reality of the events taking place. Just saying.**

**Second…things are starting to get interesting, as you can see. We’ve got some big things in the works regarding Klaus, and _eventually_ we will reveal what is going with my baby Rachel. Not yet. Eventually.  **

**Findmywaybacktoyou, my love. Yes. Shipness question is a bit of a yes. Sorry. As for Bonnie….we’ve actually not decided, so maybe?? And I will never stop apologizing for chapters I think will cause you pain. I do, by the way, slightly enjoy making you panic via apologies. Sorry.**

**Marion V, hello. Your questions shall be answered soonish. And ‘WTF’ is a very good summarization of part one of this chapter. And hello!**

**So I think that is all I have to say at the moment…Kay is up next, so enjoy that awesomeness. If you want to Tumblr me up, it’s littleredruns. I do accept messages of frustration and anger.**

**Love you! I do. It may not seem like it right now, but I do!**

**-Jules**


	35. Chapter Thirty Three

**A/n: Kayla here. Finished week two of the new job. Although it was a long week. I started it out by burning my thumb with hot glue, then the next day I almost wrecked my car, and then in Thursday it was my birthday and finally it's Friday yay, even though this might not be finished on Friday…sorry I'm rambling and all you guys want to do is read my chapter here goes nothing.**

Stiles hadn't talk to Scott much in the past few weeks. Scott was hanging out a lot with Isaac since Stiles had be hanging out more with Quinn. The more he got to know here the more he fell in love with the blonde. He loved her eyes, her smile, and the way she laughed. The way her nose crinkled when she was trying not to laugh at something he did during Glee, and most of all he just loved her. He never understood why Scott got to be all about Allison until he and Quinn made it official that they were dating and now she was all he could think about.

But today something was wrong. He could sense it. Scott has been missing all day. He didn't show up for school, he hadn't called or texted anyone. Not even Isaac knew what was up. Stiles trudge up the familiar path towards the burnt out Hale house. He never understood why Derek still hung out here. It was uninhabitable and he was sure someone, namely him, would get seriously injured by weak floor boards or something. He heard a twig snap behind him and whipped around to see Quinn following him.

"If Derek knows anything about where Scott would be…I-I want to come with you to find out," she muttered. Stiles smiled and walked back to her and grabbed her hand.

"I know, I should have let you know I was coming here," he said as they walked up to the Hale house and just walked right in.

"What do you two want?" Derek asked. His been in a grumpy mood ever since Rachel returned. Who could blame him though. Rachel was acting strange and Stiles wished they could figure out what.

"Do you have any idea where Scott could be? He hasn't answer any of us all day, and we haven't seen him," Quinn said before Stiles could start talking.

"Scott's missing, that's pretty odd, maybe we should go by his house and check it-," Derek was interrupted by all their phones going off. They all got the same text.

_Meet me at the abandoned bank – Scott_

"Wonder what that is about," Quinn said.

"I don't know, let's go," Derek said they all walked towards the vehicles. Derek jumping into his car as Stiles and Quinn jumped into Stiles's jeep. Derek lead the way and they arrived five minutes later. Isaac, Jackson, Lydia, Erica and Boyd all got the same text it seemed. They all looked at each other confused and then walked into the bank. There they saw Scott being held by the next by a guy with blonde hair.

"Ah, so glad you could join us, I was hoping that would work," the guy said.  
"Who are you ? " Derek asked.

"Forgive me, I'm being rude, I'm Klaus Mikaelson, this is my friend Tyler Lockwood, and my sister Rebekah," Klaus said.

"Let Scott go," Derek growled.  
"I think I'll keep him here with me," Klaus said letting Scott's neck go and wrapping an arm around Scott's chest.

"Scott, are you okay?" Lydia asked. Scott didn't speak he just nodded his head.

"Why are you here?" Derek asked.  
"Ah, that poses a very interesting question, see I need an army, and I need werewolves to create it. I'm merely here to give your pack an golden opportunity," Klaus said.

"Whatever it is, we don't want a part of it, now let Scott go and scurry back to London," Derek said his eyes glowing red.  
"Now see, that was the wrong answer, Derek, and Scott here is going to pay for your rudeness," Klaus said as he snapped Scott's neck as fast as lightening. Stiles's heart stopped beating as he watched his best friend fall lifeless to the ground.


	36. Chapter Thirty Four

**AN: Hello my lovelies! Tis I, Jules. I very much enjoyed everyone's reactions to the last couple of chapters, and I am quite excited to witness your reactions to this thing below.**

' **Cause, guys, I'm pretty excited about this one. Too excited to say anything else. Maybe at the end? I dunno.**

**Actually, I do have a couple more things to add—in this particular story, and in this particular chapter, Finn is mentioned, and not in a very good light. This is not intended in any way to disrespect Cory or his memory, and I do, on fact, believe that Cory could have done an amazing job with making Finn a bit of a villain. We are both very mournful about Cory's death, and send our best wishes to his friends and family. Also, Stiles will be non-Stiles-ish in this chapter, but his best friend just died, so it's understandable and intentional.**

**So that has been said. Now go read.**

**Go.**

* * *

Derek was _not_ pacing. He was simply…leisurely exercising. Really.

Okay, he was pacing. But in his defense, the past week hadn't exactly been the easiest. Rachel was still acting like she'd jumped off the deep end, and Scott…

…Scott was dead. It was hard to think about, a difficult pill to swallow. It _hurt_. It hurt every bone in Derek's body, every part of his soul.

Scott had been his beta. He'd been Derek's brother, his best, and sometimes only, friend. He'd been pack, and pack meant family. Derek felt his loss as acutely as he had the loss of his family in that damned fire.

His wolf felt it too, howling inside of him. He'd been fighting off the change ever since that night, unsure if he'd have any control in his other form in his current mental state. Frustration and overwhelming grief tended to react badly with the wolf, and he had both in spades.

He had no idea what he was going to do on the full moon, but he figured that that could be a problem for another day.

More specifically, a day when his house was not being invaded by two (rather infamous, once he did some research) hunters. Hunters who'd had Rachel with them for three months and then sent her back _different._

He paused in his pacing when he heard the rumble of an engine—a very specific engine—a mile or so up the road.

He saw Quinn's head raise in his peripheral vision, and turned to watch her stand and walk to join him in the front hall. Stiles stayed on the couch, silent and withdrawn.

Both Derek and Quinn had offered to talk to the hunters without him, tried to convince the boy to stay home. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't doing well in the aftermath of Scott's death, and Derek had no idea how to help him.

Hell, Derek couldn't even help himself. He was using the hunters and the Rachel issue as a temporary distraction, and he knew Stiles wanted to do the same. So when Derek had opened the door to find the younger boy standing next to Quinn, he let him in without comment. The boy had been silent since, sitting on one end of the couch while Quinn brought him sodas and bad of junk food that he ignored.

(Derek had fought very hard to resist forcing them to clean his living room, and had they not all been in mourning, they wouldn't be so lucky.)

The car had pulled onto the dirt road Derek considered to be his driveway, and Quinn pulled open the front door, moving on to his porch. Derek stepped behind her, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. These were the men Rachel had been with for three months, and he was man enough to admit that he was petty enough to want to put them on edge by feigning disinterest in them.

For as long as he could manage it, that is. The driver of the Impala (cherry, just like he'd thought) looked altogether too cocky for the two of them to be in the same room for very long without one of them throwing punches.

The passenger was a tall man with long hair, and both men were staring at his house skeptically. He bristled. It wasn't much, sure, but it was his and it served its purpose perfectly fine.

Quinn had walked down the front steps to meet them while Derek watched silently, warily.

"Hi," the blonde girl called out. "Are you…you're Sam and Dean, right?"

The tall one smiled at her, extending a hand for her to shake. "I'm Sam," he said. "This is my brother Dean."

Dean, apparently, chose to nod once, all while glaring at Derek. He held back a snarl, meeting the other man's green eyes defiantly.

"Hi," Quinn said again. "I'm Quinn." She half turned to gesture. "That's Derek."

He raised an eyebrow in response to Sam's help, still in an impromptu staring ( _glaring_ ) contest.

Quinn looked between them, nervous, wringing her hands, before turning to Sam again, obviously deciding that he was the safest of the three men. Or at least the most sane.

"Come in, please." She started up the stairs, eyeing Derek until he moved to let her pass. He followed close behind, cutting off the other two.

They moved into the living room, and Stiles looked up, his face stoic. Quinn introduced him quietly.

Sam sat on the other end of the couch at Quinn's invitation, but Dean and Derek both remained standing, on opposite sides of the room.

"You said this was about Rachel, when you called," Dean said, after a few beats of silence. "Care to explain?"

And she did. Quinn talked while Stiles sat and stared at his shoes, and while Derek stood watching, listening, and wondering if either of these men were ever more than just friends with Rachel. If they'd ever touched her.

Quinn explained the weird behavior, the new bitch attitude, the lack of the friendly and sweet disposition that generally described Rachel Berry—to his knowledge, anyway.

When she finished, the two hunters shared a loaded look that Derek couldn't even _attempt_ to decipher.

"Are you sure she isn't just…" Sam seemed to be searching for words, unsure.

"She isn't just what?" Quinn asked.

"That she isn't just sick of you," Dean finished, ignoring Sam's exclamation of "Dude! Be nice."

"Excuse me?" Quinn folded her arms over her chest, looking every bit the head cheerleader Scott swears she used to be.

(Swore. Scott swore. Because Scott's dead. Derek pushed that thought away, focusing.)

"You heard me, Blondie. Maybe Rae has decided she wants new friends. Or maybe it's hormones. Who the hell knows. But this sounds like a normal, teenage girl problem, either way. Not one you'd need is foe. So, sorry, princess, can't help." Dean shot Sam another unreadable look. "Let's go, Sammy."

"She held a gun on me," Stiles said, quietly. Dean froze mid-step. Stiles slowly lifted his head up to meet first Sam's, then Dean's, eyes. "She aimed a gun at my head and clicked off the safety. Does that sounds like a normal, teenage girl problem to you?"

Dean twitched. "Did you insult Streisand? Because that's never a good idea. Trust me."

"No," Stiles answered. "I know better than that."

"Well, shit." Dean sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "She's at her house?"

Quinn nodded.

"Alright. We'll go check up on her. I need to talk to her anyway."

Sam stood up, eyeing the still silent Derek lurking in the corner. "About what?" he asked as they passed through the doorway between the living room and the front hall.

Dean glared in Derek's direction. "About why the hell she was hanging out with freaking werewolves in the first place."

Derek saw Quinn blanch from the corner of his eye, but she recovered quickly. She grabbed Stiles hand and pulled him up from the couch.

"We're coming with you," the blonde declared.

"Like hell you are. We'll call if something's up."

"She wasn't asking, hunter," Derek growled, eyes flashing red. "She was telling. We're coming too."

Dean shifted his weight, hand reaching for the gun he'd probably assumed he had hidden from them, eyes narrowing. "No."

"Why not?" Quinn asked. "She's our friend."

"Because," Dean replied, ignoring Sam's renewed requests to be nice. "I'm still not convinced that you're not the problem. I can almost guarantee you are, in fact. She just doesn't want to be friends with you anymore. I can't say I blame her," he added, "considering you're kind of crappy at it."

"Hey!" Quinn exclaimed. "I am _not_ a crappy friend, okay. Rachel is like my sister. I love her, I'd do anything for her."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"You say she's been acting weird since she got back, right?"

Quinn nodded, half angry and half pouting, eyes narrowed into slits.

"Then why did it take you so long to call us?"

"I wouldn't say it was _long_ , okay. I was waiting to see if she'd snap out of it."

"Three months is a long freaking time to wait for someone to "snap out of it." If you were really worried that there was something supernaturally wrong, you would've called two and a half months ago."

Quinn furrowed her brow, visibly confused. Derek was just as puzzled, though he kept his face impassive, watching the hunter and teenager battle it out.

"That doesn't even make sense," Quinn argued. "Since she was with you two and half months ago."

"No she wasn't," Sam said, now mirroring Quinn's befuddlement.

"Yes, she was. She was with the two you for the past three months. She's only came back to Beacon Hills two weeks ago."

"No, she wasn't," Dean repeated, eyes going wide. "Rachel wasn't with us for three months. Rachel was only with us for a week."

* * *

Stiles and Quinn were following behind him in the Jeep. He was following the hunters. They pulled to the curb at Rachel's house, so Derek parked the Camaro in the driveway. The Jeep tucked in behind him, and the five met at the front door.

Sam reached out and rang the doorbell. Derek tugged Quinn and Stiles out of the line of sight from the front door, to the left of the hunters. He had a feeling Rachel would be less than amused to see them, considering her recent behavior, and so they had planned ahead for the three of them to be a sneaky surprise.

The door swung open to reveal Rachel, beautiful as ever. She smiled wide, launching herself first at Sam, then Dean, for a hug. She drew back, but left her arms looped around Dean's middle. Derek's eyes narrowed, and he held back a growl—he didn't want to blow their cover, no matter how badly his baser instincts protested against her touch on Dean.

"What are you guys doing here?" She sounded excited, happier than she'd been the entire time she'd been back in Beacon Hills. Derek was wolf enough to admit that that _hurt_ a bit, made it heart twinge inside his chest.

(He wanted to be the one who made her smile like that, made her face brighten and her voice fill with excitement. He hated that these men did it when he couldn't.)

(He also hated that she was still touching Dean, but he was trying to ignore that as best he could.)

"We were nearby," Sam said, giving her an easy smile, obviously at ease with lying. "Figured we'd swing by and check in on you."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I don't need checking up on, but I am glad to see you." She unwrapped herself from Dean (finally) and gestured to the door. "Come on in. Mi casa, and all that."

She moved aside to let the hunters over the threshold, and beginning to follow behind. Derek waited until her back was turned, before ducking out of the shadows and hauling the small girl's body to him. He lifted her up and over his shoulder, ignoring her protests. She was kicking, and hitting, any part of him she could, and he tightened his grip. Sure, she'd been acting like a crazy-ass bitch lately, but that didn't mean he would be willing to _drop_ her—she was, after all, small and rather breakable.

"Where do you want her?" he asked Dean, almost shouting to be hears over Rachel's cursing.

Dean looked around, then pointed in the direction of the living room. "In there. Sam, grab a chair from the kitchen. Blondie," he gave Quinn an assessing look, then tossed her his keys. "Get the ropes from the trunk."

She left the room, and Stiles raised his hand.

"Can I help?" the boy asked. Dean shook his head no, pulling a flask from his back pocket. Derek adjusted his hold on the squirming, protesting, pissed off Rachel.

"You can help me get her into that," he told Stiles, nodding at the chair Sam was placing the center of the room, between the couch and the coffee table. They wrestled the girl into the chair while dean took the ropes from Quinn. The hunter began wrapping them around her, while the girl glared.

"What the hell are you all doing?"

Dean shrugged, tying a knot above her hands. "You're friends here seem to think you're not you, so Sammy and I are gonna do a couple tests."

"And you had to tie me up for that? You could've just asked."

"It's a precaution," Sam explained, giving her a sheepish smile. "In case you're not actually you and we need to convince this you to tell us what happened to real you, if you're not real you."

"That was confusing," Quinn shook her head, sitting with a sigh onto the recliner. "So now what?"

"Now we test," Sam explained while Dean opened the flask. "For demonic possession, shifter, leviathan, angel."

"Angel?" Derek asked, looking at Rachel skeptically.

"You'd be surprised how many angels are nasty, possessive little bastards," Dean informed them, swirling the contents of the flask. He drew back his him and splashed Rachel with what looked like water.

Rachel quirked a brow. "Not a demon. And why didn't you just use 'Cristo?' It works just as effectively and I wouldn't be all wet."

Dean scowled. "Sorry." He took a container of what appeared to be cleaner from Sam.

"You're going to at least avoid my face with this one, right?"

Dean rolled his eyes, pouring some cleaner on her hand. When nothing happened, he pulled out two blades, one short and dark, and the other long, thin, and shining under the overhead light.

Derek eyed them warily.

"What do you think you're going to be doing with those?" he demanded. Dean was gripping one of Rachel's arms with one hand.

"I need to cut her. If she reacts to either of them, we'll know it's not her."

"Like hell you are. Get away from her." Derek went to pull Dean up, but was stopped by Sam's arm across his chest, blocking him.

"It's the only way to test," he explained, and Derek watched, wincing, as Dean made two slices along her skin, one with each knife. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and Derek scowled at the angry red lines, both squeezing out little drops of blood.

"See," Rachel said, smugly, "all human, all me. So let me out."

Dean went around to work on untying the knots. "Sorry, Rae. Couldn't take any chances. You know."

He had one knot almost undone when the front door swung open and Hurricane Brittany, as Derek had taken to calling her, blew in.

"Oh, good," the blonde said, surveying the room. "Rachie is still tied up."

"Why is that good, Brittany? The fact that they tied me up in the first place is completely deplorable. That I am still tied up is even more so, and if any of them know what's good for them, they will untie me _now,_ " Rachel demanded, wiggling her shoulders.

"No, can do, I've already see-er-ed the future about it," Brittany said with a shrug. Dean looked at the girl oddly, until Quinn leaned over to whisper to him that Brittany was a seer.

"And why not?" Rachel asked hotly.

"Don't know. Just know you can't. And that the trench coat guy is gonna help." She looked around. "Is he not here yet? Sometimes I get confused."

" _You_ get confused?" Stiles gave a sardonic laugh. "I'm not even sure you're speaking English most of the time."

"I do sometimes speak Catanese."

"Do you mean Cantonese, Britt?" Quinn asked.

"No, Catanese. What cats speak. Lord Tubbington taught me," Brittany clarified. She looked over at Sam. "Can you call trench coat man, please? He needs to go into Rachie's brain."

"What?!" Rachel shrieked. "No one is going anywhere near my brain!" she wriggled around, trying to free her hands.

"But you're not right," Brittany whined. "The trench coat man is gonna look and see why."

"Trench coat man?" Sam asked Dean quietly, eyeing the blonde cheerleader.

"She means Cas," Rachel answered absently. "But there's no need for you to bother Castiel, really. I'm sure he is very busy at the moment, and I'm perfectly fine, albeit still tied up."

"I'm not busy."

Derek whipped his head around, nails and teeth elongating—it was rare for someone to sneak up on him so easily.

"Hello, Cas," Rachel said, unsurprised. She was the only one who had not turned to face the voice, unable to contort her body that way, flexible as she was.

"Hello." The man standing there was indeed wearing a trench coat, with dark hair and blue eyes that rivalled Derek's own. He was squinting inscrutably at those gathered in the room. "Why are we in a conference with a werewolf, an Alpha, a seer, and an empath? And why is Rachel tied to a chair? I thought she was a friend?"

Rachel nodded emphatically. "See? Friend. I've got holy, angelic support. Untie me."

"Cas, a word?" Den asked, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Floccinaucinihilipilification," Cas answered, still squinting at the back of Rachel's head. Dean groaned, reaching out to grasp Cas' arm and lead him out of the room.

"Did anyone see him come in?" Quinn asked the room. "Because I didn't. It was like he just…appeared out of thin air."

"He's an angel, Quinn," Rachel answered flatly. "He's certainly not going to use the door."

"Thank you, Not-Rachel. I appreciate the sarcasm," Quinn bit back.

"Well, it is your native tongue, is it not?" The two girls glared at each other, and Quinn opened her mouth to rebut, so Derek interrupted with a short, low growl.

"No," he told the blonde, eyes flashing red.

"Why not?" Quinn asked him snottily. "If she's going to act like a bitch, then so am I."

"Because I said so," Derek answered. "Besides, she's still your best friend and when this is all over you're going to regret the things you might've said."

Quinn glared with an angry pout, so he continued. "And you're going to need each other to lean on when we all finally get a chance to…deal...with the Scott thing."

Rachel looked at him suspiciously—though she was actually looking him, so Derek was going to call it a win. "What Scott thing?" she asked.

"I thought we weren't telling her what happened to Scott until she was normal," Stiles said.

"What happened to Scott?" Rachel asked again.

"Although she'll probably be able to figure out what that British guy was."

"She can do that when she's back to normal, Stiles."

"What guy? And what the hell happened to Scott? Tell me!" Rachel demanded, as Cas and Dean reentered the room. "The guy! You said he was British right? Lighter hair, kind of sexy, high level of self-importance?"

"Sexy?" Derek asked her in a growl. He didn't want thinking of other men as sexy, especially not evil murderous…somethings, who killed his wolf and friend.

"Really, not the issue at the moment, Wolf boy, though I'm glad to see that your brain is the exact same place it was when I left—down your pants."

"Okay!" Sam interrupted with a yell. "Okay. Everybody just…stop." Derek looked at the taller man, who had been silent almost the entire day. He honestly hadn't believed Sam knew _how_ to raise his voice.

"So this is what we're going to do," Dean said in a gruff tone, avoiding Rachel's accusing eyes. "The crazy cheerleader who sees the future insists that there's something wrong with Rachel, but that it's all in head. To figure out what it is and how to help her, she either needs to tell us," he gave Rachel an assessing glance, "or, as that's not likely to happen, we need to find out from the source."

"You stay the hell out of my head, Dean Winchester, or so help me…"

"He will not be going in your head, Rachel," Cas intoned. "I will." He reached a hand out, pressing it to Rachel's forehead, and Derek started, stretching to pull the arm away.

"Wait," he began, as Rachel yelled "No!" There was a bright, white, luminescent flash, and Derek shielded his eyes. He looked again when the light faded, only to see Cas with his hand still resting on Rachel's head, his eyes closed. Rachel herself was slumped over, unconscious, and Derek is only lightly ashamed to admit that he _whined_ when he saw her, low and keening in his throat.

"That was a little anticlimactic," Quinn commented, settling back into the chair she was perched on. "Now what?"

"We wait," Dean answered.

And they waited.

* * *

_**Three Months Ago (Give or Take a Week)** _

" _I'll be fine, guys. It's a bus, not the Titanic."_

_Dean smirked, pulling her into a hug. He let go quickly, mucking up her hair in apology. "Sorry, kid. We worry about you, ya know."_

" _Says the man who used me as vampire bait all week."_

" _Well he didn't want either of us," Sam reminded her. "Just midget brunettes."_

_Rachel shook her head, laughing. "I don't blame him, Sasquatch. If I were a vamp, I wouldn't go for you either."_

" _Yeah, yeah," Dean groused. "Whatever. On the bus. If you sure. We can still drive you back, you know."_

_Rachel rolled her eyes, stretching up to kiss them both on the cheek. Giggling when he saw Dean wipe his cheek with his sleeve, she lifted her duffle bag and stepped on the bus._

_The first leg of the trip was uneventful. She turned on her phone and listened to the voicemails saved on it. Most were from Quinn, with Stiles yelling comments in the background. There was one from Scott and Allison, so sickeningly sweet it made her teeth ache._

_There were also two from Derek, one of which made other, more private, parts of her ache. The other just made her miss him fiercely, as irrational as that was, and gave her the desire to curl up with him under a blanket with some black and white film._

_It was bizarre, her reactions to him, considering they'd only known each other a short time. They weren't even officially together, or anything like that._

_But there was something about him, something that drew her in and made her forget herself. Something that made her want to be_ his, _as archaic as that was._

_His texts elicited the same responses, albeit more directly. He was, apparently, a fan of dirty texts…sexts, as Noah would call them. She read over the first few with an increasingly red face, before finally resolving not to read further until she was home, and not surrounded by strangers on a Greyhound._

_So she read the texts from Quinn instead. And the texts from Stiles and Scott. There was even a text from Allison, a link to an online store specializing in custom weaponry. Rachel saved the link to her bookmarks as the bus rolled to a stop at the station._

_She stepped off the bus, craning her neck to search for a directory—she needed to find her next bus, the one that would take her home. She managed to spot one across the station, and she headed in that direction, inwardly cursing her small stature as she pushed through clusters of people who towered over her._

_She cursed her size even more when no one around her noticed the hand clapped over her mouth, her body being dragged backwards into the men's restroom. She felt something slam into the back of her head, and everything went black._

_She came to and found herself chained to a wall, rough brick judging by the feeling of it rubbing her back raw. Her head was throbbing with a headache, and burning with pain from what she could only assume was a large head injury. CSI would call it "blunt force trauma," she was sure._

_The pain in her head was nothing compared to the excruciating agony she was feeling in her ribs. She craned her neck, wincing at the ache it caused, and looked down. Her shirt was shredded on her right side, and, underneath, her skin was marred with blood, oozing from four long, jagged slashes. One was deep enough that Rachel was pretty sure she could see the bones of her ribs playing peek-a-boo in the gore dripping from her body._

_Rachel fought the urge to vomit, closing her eyes against the sight. She moved her head and opened her eyes again, surveying her surroundings._

_The lights were dim, thankfully—her eyes were already burning as it was. The room around her looked like it had once been the lobby of a hotel, long since abandoned judging by the amount of dust and debris. The check-in counter stretched out to her left, a giant crack cut through the middle. There were turned-over chairs and couches scattered throughout the room, and a shattered television screen across the wall from her. There was a grand staircase to her right, the steps warped and full of cracks and crevices. The stairs stopped around three-fourths of the way up, leaving a gaping hole._

_Aside from the spiders crawling around on their webs, Rachel was alone in the room, but she knew that wouldn't last for very long, once whoever had brought her here knew she was awake. Rachel opted to take the opportunity of being alone to assess the damage to her body._

_In addition to the mess that was her side, she appeared to have similar cuts etched into the meat of her upper left thigh, as well as what felt like a twisted right ankle. That would make it harder to run away, but she had done more on worse. Other than that, her body was mostly intact, and she was confident she could think of a way to escape, if only her brain would stop doing the samba inside of her skull._

_It felt like an hour before one of the front doors opened, though it was probably more like fifteen minutes. Sunlight streamed through the opening, and Rachel winced, squinting her eyes against the glare. The man who entered was shadowed, but familiar. The door slammed shut behind him, and Rachel's eyes adjusted, revealing Finn Hudson in all his giant teen glory._

_He ambled in, smirking at her. As he got closer, Rachel saw that his eyes, once deep and brown, were now soulless, black pits. She lifted her head defiantly._

" _How long have you been in him, then?" she asked, feigning disinterest. Internally, of course, she was freaking out. She wondered if Finn was still even in his body, if the demon taken root inside of him was damaging his soul. She wanted to weep for him, but unable, kept her face blank._

" _The wedding that wasn't," the demon replied, giving her a smirk. "Gave or take a few days. I honestly expected more from you—you never even realized."_

" _We haven't exactly been close since then," she argued, twisting her wrists in an attempt to slide them free from the shackles, ignoring the blood running from each new cut of the metal into her skin._

" _Oh, I noticed. So much dramatics in high school. It's nauseating."_

" _Then maybe you shouldn't have possessed a high school student," Rachel countered. She tugged her wrist again, feeling it come free, the blood serving as lubricant. She held back a grin, easing her freed hand down her body slowly, to the knife hidden in her boot—she could still feel the cover pressed against her skin, the grip of the weapon at an ankle that poked her calf uncomfortably. She wondered why he hadn't taken it from her, but didn't really want to complain about small miracles._

_She had her eyes locked on the non-Finn, and her freed hand almost wedged in to her boot. She blinked, and he—it—was suddenly directly before her, gripping her arm tightly in his hand._

" _You are a wily one, I'll give you that." He twisted his hand, sending twinges of pain shooting through her arm. "Though they did warn me," he continued with a careless shrug. "I suppose it's my own fault for ignoring them. You're just so…tiny. Insignificant."_

" _If I'm so insignificant," Rachel said, gritting her teeth, "then why kidnap me and chain me to a wall? Some weird mating ritual? Are a Finchel fan?"_

_He smirked. "You talk too much. I'd really rather you scream."_

" _You wish."_

_Demon Finn smiled, wide and unnerving, far too cold for Finn's innocent face. He brought a hand to her cheek, caressing down until it joined the other on her arm. Rachel grimaced in revulsion, glaring at him._

" _I do, yes." He wrapped both hands around her wrist and snapped the bone. Rachel howled at the pain, licking flames of it spreading agony through her body. "That's right. Scream, bitch."_

_She blacked out._

_She woke to a burning sensation on her shoulder, a fierce pain that brought her to consciousness with a yelp. She craned her neck to look, and saw not-Finn pressing a heated-red poker flat against her skin._

" _Oh, good. You're awake. Now the fun can commence." He trailed the poker down her arm, pushing it hard against her broken wrist before pulling it away._

" _What-what do you want from me?" she asked, her voice dry and scratchy. She wondered if this was going to end with permanently damaged vocal chords, then cursed herself for being ridiculous enough to consider that a priority when she was obviously in a very bad situation._

" _Why, to break you, little girl. Utterly, completely. Body and soul."_

" _Why?" she repeated. "What did I do to you?"_

" _Oh, it's not you, sweetheart. It's you friends, those damn Winchesters. You're just the bait." He had, during this time, returned to the fire he had set in a large metal trash can in the center of the room. He rested the end of the poker in the flame, grinning maliciously._

" _They won't come," she called to him. "They've got a hell of a lot more important things to do."_

" _That's perfectly alright with me," he answered, turning the poker. "You see, I was given permission to entertain myself however I wanted. And what I want is to make you suffer."_

" _Why?"_

" _I was stuck in the body of Finn Hudson, below average high schooler, for months, so I could watch you. We had to make sure, you see, that you were the right Rachel Berry. When they picked you up last week, we knew. But I still had to endure the torment of high school dramatics and condescending teachers who dared correct my English. I'm hundreds of years older than they, I know the language."_

_He pulled the poker from the fire and strode back to her, producing a vial from his pocket. He shook it, holding it aloft for her to see the honey-hued liquid inside._

" _This is a nifty little brew I had a witch cook up especially for this. I have enough to roofie you and those idiot hunters every day for a year."_

_Rachel eyed it warily, clamping her lips together in an attempt to keep her mouth shut._

" _Aren't you wondering what it does?"_

_She shook her head, wincing at the ache in her head._

" _Too bad. I'm going to tell you anyway. This," he held it up again, twisting the top off. "This will summon your worst nightmare, and make you live it and relive it, over, and over again. Until it wears off, that is," he added. "But then I can just give you more. All I need is for you to open your mouth and fall asleep. Or unconscious. Works the same."_

_He raised the poker, laying the heated end against her neck. She squirmed, attempting to keep her mouth closed, but to no avail—she couldn't help but scream. He poured the liquid down her throat, dropping the vial and the pork. He drew back his arm, launching forward with a hit that struck her eye and sent her head crashing back against the wall with a resounding thud._

_And she fell unconscious._

_She dreamed._

_Stepped lightly through the front door. Partially to keep quiet, and partially because even now, after all this time, she wasn't entirely sure the floorboards would hold—the Hale house wasn't exactly structurally sound, after all._

_By the sounds around her, her targets were upstairs. She wondered how much time she'd have before they'd notice the bodies in the yard. She was actually surprised they hadn't come running when they heard the shots. Gunfire isn't exactly quiet, and with the targets super-hearing…well, she was fully prepared to have them rush her at moment, in any case._

_Taking down the first three had been east—a cakewalk, really. The girl went down first, a disdainful look morphing into shock as the bullet ripped into her chest. The perfectly styled hair, "strawberry blonde, thank you very much," was a stark contrast to the grass as she fell._

_Her body crumpling down provided the perfect distraction for her to hot the second target with a well-aimed bullet, his usual smugness melting into horror._

_The bullet had ailed right through his aviator glasses, squishing in to, and then out of, his eye, clear through the back of his head._

_The third on the lawn was easiest, so dismayed and alarmed at his friends' deaths that he didn't think to defend himself from her. He got a hit to the heart while she was mid-stride, walking calmly towards the rundown house as he fell._

_The entire exchange took mere minutes, maybe less._

_It was enough time, however, for the wolves up the stairs to get on the defensive. She'd have to be extra careful._

_She made it to the top of the stairs, and, confident that her targets were in the only used bedroom in the house, tiptoed to the left._

_She slipped into the room, hand and gun behind her back, out of sight. The three targets in the room spun to face her, and she smiled as they all immediately went from defensive to stark relief._

" _Rachel, thank god. Have you been in the house long?"_

" _Someone shot…but you're okay, right?"_

" _Did you see anyone on your way up here?"_

_The three targets spoke at once, and she schooled her face to look blank._

" _Nope, didn't see a soul."_

_Two of them turned away, back to the window, watching for someone that was not out there. The third, however—the weaker, human one—watched her with wary eyes._

_She smiled at him, bringing a finger to her lips as she lifted the gun from behind her back._

_His eyes widened, and he took a step back. "Shit, she's…"_

_Rachel shot, swung left and shot again. The first bullet went into the boy's chest, the second between his friend's eyes. She looked up as the second body thudded to the floor, eyes open and wide._

" _Rach, baby…what?"_

_Rachel turned to face the third man, who looked confused, devastated._

_She raised the gun._

" _Rachel, no. You don't have to…" His reached a hand out, shaking his head, watching her entreatingly. "I'm your husband," he plead._

" _No, Derek. You're a dog with a tendency to bite." She smiled coldly. "And dogs that bite get put down."_

_She squeezed the trigger, watching his body arc and fall, his eyes still begging her, even as the light faded from them._

_Pity, that. He always did have beautiful eyes, for a monster._

_She turned away from the fallen form, walking past the already slightly cooler bodies of Scott and Stiles, out to the yard where Jackson, Lydia, and Danny lay reaching for each other._

_In the car, she sent a quick text out and then drove, back into town._

_She still had one wolf to go, after all._

_She pulled up in front of the house, using her key to get in._

" _Quinn?" she called._

" _In the kitchen!"_

_She followed the voice into the kitchen at the back of the house, making sure the gun was tucked into the back of her waistband, hidden. She pulled on her shirt to cover it as she pushed open the swinging door._

_Quinn looked up, smiling, as Rachel entered the room. The blonde was kneading dough for a pie crust—for Thanksgiving, most likely. Quinn turned back to it, after the two exchanged hellos._

" _Have you seen Stiles this afternoon?" Quinn asked her. "He said he was going to Derek's, but he should've been back by now."_

" _Yeah," Rachel answered, easing the gun from its hiding place. "I was just over there."_

" _Oh, good. Did he say when he coming home?"_

" _He's not."_

_Quinn looked up, confused, her hair a golden halo around her head. Her face blanched when she registered the gun, hands moving protectively to her rounded belly._

" _What?" she asked._

" _He's not coming home, Quinn. He's dead."_

" _No." the blonde started shaking her head in denial, backing away from the island counter separating them._

_Rachel clicked off the safety._

" _Yes. Trust me, I know." She raised the gun to point at the blonde's heart. "I did kill him, after all."_

_She squeezed the trigger and the blonde went down, hands still cradling her swollen stomach, tears tracking down her face._

" _Sorry, Q. You really were the best friend I ever had. Too bad you weren't human."_

_Rachel spun around to leave, stopping short at the sight of a horrified Allison standing in the doorway._

" _Rachel?"_

_She raised the gun again. "Hello, Allison."_

" _What the hell are you doing?"_

_Rachel smiled. "Something that should've been done a long time ago. They're monsters, Allison. They needed killing."_

_Allison eyes the firearm pointed to her head._

" _And me? I'm human. A hunter, even. Like you."_

" _Yes," Rachel answered, giving the other brunette a shrug. "But you're also part of the problem. Thank you, by the way, for being here," she added. "Saved me the trouble of going through your father."_

_And then Allison was down too, Rachel stepping over her body to leave. She stored the gun in the trunk of her car and got in the driver's seat._

_They weren't always the same—the magic induced nightmares. Sometimes Dean and Sam were there, and she cut the brakes in the Impala or shot them from behind while on a hunt. Once she even dreamed of the hell she was going through now, only Quinn was chained to the wall, and Rachel herself was doing the torturing._

_They all had a common theme, however—she was killing her friends, murdering them brutally and without remorse._

_Her worst nightmares, indeed._

_The not-Finn dosed her with the brew, as he called it, at least twice a day, sometimes more. In between her bouts of unconsciousness, he abused her body. Burning her, cutting her, breaking her bones. He once pulled some fingernails and a back molar._

_She lost track of time._

_He would sometimes crow about how long she'd been stuck in that abandoned hotel lobby with him, but she was too far gone to hear him, to comprehend what he was telling her._

_Eventually the nightmares bled into reality. He press a Zippo against her hand and she'd see herself burning down Derek's barely there home with all of her loved ones inside. He would rain punches on her body and she would wonder what it would be like the feel her foot crack against Stiles' ribs, to smash Derek's head into the wall._

_She began to hate herself._

_Dean and Sam never came. (She wondered if they even knew.)_

_She stopped screaming._

_And then it stopped. The physical torture, at least. Her mind was ravaged, and she knew she'd never recover. There were no longer moments of blinding, excruciating torment, and she wondering how long her reprieve would be._

_But hours turned into days, and the demon disguised as Finn never returned._

_Her left wrist was useless, she soon discovered, after attempting to use the hand, still free from the chains, to scrabble at the bindings wrapped around her right wrist. (Demon Finn had enjoyed ensuring that the bones remain broken, and had repeatedly slammed the appendage into the wall behind her.)_

_She would have to work the bound hand free without it. It took her the better part of two days, and her wrist and hand came out bloody and rubbed raw._

_It took another couple of hours to get to the front door—her ankle was swollen to the size of a softball, and the cracked and broken ribs made it hard to breathe, focus, and move._

_Eventually she made it to the doors, then out, blinking in the bright sunshine. She'd forgotten how the sun felt. Her eyes roved the street._

_She appeared to be on an abandoned alleyway—the buildings along the road were also empty, dank, and dark, with boarded up windows and "condemned" notices. A couple of buildings to her left, the street was intersected by another road, one with cars racing up and down the stretch of it._

_She hobbled in that direction, sure she could find someone to help her. She made it to the mouth of the street, catching the eyes of a group of women leaving a salon. She managed to call out a whimpered "help me," before promptly passing out, face first on to the asphalt._

_She spent about three weeks in the local hospital, according to the night nurse. The same nurse also informed her that she was in Chicago, though Rachel had no idea how she ended up there. (She realized that she must have been unconscious longer than she'd thought when the demon first kidnapped her—she had been in Las Vegas when he had grabbed her.)_

_They put her left arm in a cast, wrapped her ankle and her ribs, stitched up her cuts, and soothed her burns. When they asked what had happened to her, and she lied and told them it was a car accident._

_They released her, and she made her way back to Beacon Hills, riding the bus, hitchhiking, and occasionally "borrowing" cars._

_Her head was mostly clear, the poison he'd put in it gone, thanks to an IV drip and some good food. The stronger her body became, the more sound her mind._

_But the fear still lingered, the terrifying thought that she was going to kill the people she holds most dear. Some of the scenarios her mind had concocted held a very real possibility of coming true, and she dreamed of murdering them all every time she closed her eyes._

_She thought her fears would be relieved when she made it back home, when she saw her friends. Instead, they multiplied. She saw Quinn, watching her across the hall at Beacon Hills High School, and all Rachel could think of was how easy it would be to plant a bullet into Quinn's heart from where she was standing._

_She resolved to stay away. If she wasn't friends with them, if she didn't see them, talk to them, be with them, she'd never have to opportunity to give in to her nightmares and end them._

_It would be better this way._

* * *

Derek was bored. Very, very bored. He kept his eyes trained on Cas and Rachel, however, which meant he was the first to notice that they were awake from their stupor. Cas straightened his spine, blinking, calm.

Rachel, on the other hand, was anything but calm—she reared up with a gasp, jerking against the ropes that bound her to her kitchen chair. A few stray tears were creeping their way down her cheeks, and Derek wanted nothing more than to kiss them away. She was avoiding his gaze, however, and he knew his touch wouldn't be welcome, so he kept his distance.

"Well?" Quinn demanded, staring wide-eyed at the so-called _angel_.

The blue-eyed man squinted at Rachel thoughtfully, before beginning to speak.

Derek became more and more agitated with every word Cas spoke, as the man explained what he had seen in Rachel's head. The violence that had been inflicted on her, the mental torment, made him want to hit something. Hard. Repeatedly.

(It also made him want to gather her up in his arms, hold her close, and steal her away, take her somewhere where she would be safe.)

The room was silent when he finished, everyone lost in their own thoughts. It was Sam who broke the silence, muttering something about "his fault," and storming into the kitchen.

"So, basically," Stiles mused aloud, "she needs to just… get over it?"

"Stiles!" Quinn scolded. "I'm sure if it was that easy, she'd have done it already. Right, Rachel?"

Rachel finally looked up from her inspection of her feet on the carpet. "Oh, yes. Let me just forget two months of horror-film grade torture and the fact that I have the urge to murder all of you where you stand because my mind was repeatedly assaulted with the vision of it, and we'll all go out for slushies. Please. Don't be idiotic." She rolled her eyes. "This isn't something you just 'get over'."

"What if you just… tried?" Quinn said quietly, wringing her hands. "You know, just ignored the urges, or something."

"No," Rachel answered. "I'm not going to ignore it."

"But they were only nightmares, Rae," Dean told her. "They're not real."

"Nightmares are just the deepest, darkest parts of us come to life," she replied. "So they weren't just _nightmares._ They were _me._ They were a manifestation of a part of me that desperately wants to see all of you dead. I've accepted that. I've embraced that." She smiled coolly at Quinn. "I've seen the real me, Q. It's best that you don't. So all of you need to untie me and get out."

"So then how do we fix this?" Quinn asked, ignoring Rachel's demand for them to leave.

"You can't," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes again.

"Maybe we should talk about this in a different room," Dean said, straightening up from where he had been leaning against an end table.

They moved into the kitchen, where Sam sat with his head in one hand and his phone in the other. Quinn and Stiles joined him at the table, while Dean and Cas congregated by the fridge, the hunter already rummaging through the appliance's contents.

Derek frowned, not seeing Brittany. The blonde must've left, though he couldn't recall seeing her leave. Unsurprising, since his focus had been locked onto Rachel, but he still wondered at how she'd managed to slip out unnoticed.

After a few beats of silence—aside from the sounds of Dean chewing bites of the sandwich he had stolen from the fridge—Quinn repeated her question about what to do about Rachel.

Dean cleared his throat. "You're not gonna like hearing this, kid, but there's nothing you can do. Rae made her mind, and we can't change that."

"But she's freaking out because of nightmares!"

"That she was tormented with for months," Derek reminded her. "The psychological damage that that has obviously caused could maybe be helped with a decade of daily therapy. I think I agree with the hunters on this one."

"Then maybe all she needs is to forget," Stiles commented quietly, reaching over to squeeze Quinn's hand.

"And how do you see that happening?" Derek asked. "If you hadn't noticed, she's extremely stubborn, and pretty set on holding on to this thing."

"So we won't ask hr. We'll make her." Stiles looked over at Sam. 'It's possible, right? To make her forget?"

Sam clenched his jaw, giving a slight shrug. "Technically, yes. But would you really do that her? To your friend? Take away her choice and her memories?"

"Yes," Stiles answered. "I just lost my best friend, my brother. I'm not gonna lose her too. I'm done losing people."

"Sam's got a point, Stiles. It wouldn't be right," Derek commented. "I want her to be back to normal too, trust me, but this is the way. She'd never forgive us."

"She'd never know!" Stiles argued. "She wouldn't remember. This is the best way to get her back."

"At what cost?" Derek demanded. "You're talking about taking away her free will, her choice."

The room sat in silence, the group mulling over the idea.

Dean cleared his throat. "Obviously, we're all split on the issue. So, who's closest to Rachel?"

Quinn raised her hand timidly. "Me, I think."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Your call, then, Blondie."

Quinn's eyes widened. "What?"

"You're closest to her, you decide."

Quinn nodded, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She sighed, her eyes drifting to the kitchen door. They could hear Rachel through it, sarcastically commenting on how exciting it was to be tied up alone in a room.

Quinn's eyes met Derek, and he shook his head at her, almost pleasingly—he could tell by the expression on her face that he was not going to like her decision.

"Sorry, Derek," she finally said, "but I want my best friend back." She looked at Stiles, squeezing his hand. "Let's do it."

"So, how do we do this?" Stiles asked.

"I can do it," Cas intoned, moving to the door.

"Wait! Wait." Derek blocked the door with his arm. "You can't just _take_ her memories. She's going to realize that she's missing three months. And what about all of the people at your school? They saw her, talked to her. They could clue her in to something being wrong."

"Sour wolf has a point," Stiles admitted, somewhat begrudgingly.

"Cas?" Dean asked, eyeing the angel questioningly.

"I will take care of it," Cas answered. Derek moved his arm to let Cas pass.

"I want to go on record that this is a very bad idea," Derek said.

"Noted," Quinn replied, watching him withapologetic eyes.

Derek sighed, straightening to follow Cas back to the living room. "This is going to come back to bite us in the ass. I just know it."

* * *

They decided—well, Derek _demanded_ —that he, and he alone, would stay with Rachel when she woke. (Cas' mind-wiping trick had knocked her unconscious, and the angel said it would be a couple of hours before she was awake again.)

The angel had done his mojo, then disappeared to, apparently, mind-wipe the entire high school. He had put false memories in Rachel's head, to make up for the missing months. Whenever Rachel did wake up, she would be under the impression that after her hunt with Dean and Sam, she took a bus to stay with some guy named Bobby, to assist in some kind of research. (Derek had stopped paying attention at those point, wondering why all of these hunters were _men,_ and if this Bobby was as male-model-like as the Winchester brothers.)

The group had agreed that having all of them there when she awoke would only make her suspicious, especially the hunters. So Dean and Sam left first (after letting Derek peek under the hood of their car, that is), citing a haunting a few towns over that could use their time.

Quinn and Stiles left not long after, though it took Quinn a lot of convincing to leave. (Derek had had to point out in low tones that Stiles really needed her, "just look at him," and that Derek could handle Rachel just fine.) They went to Stiles house, informing Derek, in no uncertain terms, to call if they were needed, that they would be there all day.

And so Derek was left alone with his thoughts, as stomach churning as they were.

He didn't agree with what they did, not at all. It violated Rachel's basic human right, took away her will to choose. But he also couldn't say that he wasn't glad she was going to be herself again, the her that isn't plagued by fear and nightmares at all hours of the day.

He was conflicted, to say the least, so, as he did with Scott's death, Derek put it to the back of mind, behind the boring, uninteresting things like politics. Instead, he lifted Rachel bridal style, and carried her upstairs to her bed. He set her down gently on top of the comforter, then took to the first floor, clearing up any evidence that the odd group had been there only hours before.

When he finished, he returned to her room, sitting in her desk chair. He watched her chest rise and fall, lost in thought.

* * *

Rachel blinked her eyes open, stretching. She turned onto her side, smiling faintly at Derek's snores. She wasn't sure how she got to bed, when Derek got the, or why she had a headache so massive that it felt like her brain had been run over by a truck, but she figured Derek could explain. Just as soon as he woke up, that is.

She bit her lip, grinning, and leaned closer to him, the ends of her hair tickling against his chest. He had, apparently, ditched his shirt before climbing onto bed with her, and she took advantage of it, lowering her head to circle his nipple with her tongue. He wriggled a little underneath her, but stayed asleep.

Her head tilted to the side, considering. She carefully brought her legs up from where they had been pressed against his, rising up to sit on her knees. She gently pushed on his shoulder until he was resting on his back, then threw a leg over him, so she was straddling his stomach.

"Derek," she called quietly. "I need you to wake up."

He didn't react, so she bent to press a lingering kiss to his mouth. She felt him shift beneath her, and his hands moved to grip her hips, though his eyes stayed closed.

"Nut-uh," she hummed. "I want to see those pretty blue eyes."

He frowned. "Not pretty," he muttered. "Manly."

"Oh, are we opposed to pretty? Hm. How about," she pressed a kiss to one cheek, "dashing?" She kissed the other cheek. His mouth quirked into a smile, leaving as quickly as it came. "No?" she continued. "What about… enigmatic." She darted forward to lay a loss on the tip of his nose, while he laughed.

When he didn't answer, she huffed. "Open your eyes or I'm going to forever refer to you as cute. Your cute eyes and your cute hair, your cute abs and your cute ass, your cute car, your cute dilapidated house…"

Rachel cut herself off with a squeak, suddenly finding herself on her back with Derek's knees bracketing her hips, as he hovered over her.

"I," he growled, "am _not_ cute." He captured her lips in a kiss, sliding a hand from her hip to her stomach, easing it under her shirt. She arched her back, opening up the kiss to intertwine her tongue with his.

She waited for his wandering hand to wander further north, but he instead trailed it along her side, tickling her skin with light gestures. She broke the kiss, giggling.

"Good morning," she said, scrunching her nose when he kissed it.

"Technically," he rumbled, "it's still night."

"Semantics." She grinned up at him. "I hate to admit it, but I kind of missed you."

He moved his head down to her neck, licking a stripe along the skin. She leaned her head to give him better access. "I kind of missed you too," he answered.

"Good."

He raised his head again, pinning her with his gaze. "Are you going to tell me why you needed me awake, or was it all part of your master plan to get kisses?"

"You know," she said, laughing, "I actually don't remember. But since you are, in fact, awake," she continued, lifting her arms to snake around his neck. "We should definitely do the kisses thing you mentioned." She rose up to meet his mouth with hers, sighing happily into the kiss.

Yeah, she'd kind of missed him.

* * *

She woke up the next morning feeling very warm—most likely, she surmised, because of the werewolf folded around her like a cocoon. She twisted and wiggled in Derek's arms until she was facing him. He was still shirtless, but so was she, the innocent kisses of last night having turned into a shirtless make out session. Her bra had stayed on, though, however much she wished it hadn't—Derek had insisted they not rush anything, and only the swinging of the headache she'd had most of the night kept her from arguing much.

Derek was already awake, and watching her think. She narrowed her eyes at him, freeing one hand from the tangle of sheets to his head, smoothing the frown lines she found there with her thumb.

"You look sad," she told him, cupping his cheek. "What's wrong?"

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple defining the motion, and she sat up.

"Derek, what is it?"

He sat up too, grabbing her hand to lace their fingers together.

"I have to tell you something," he finally said. "About Scott."

* * *

Derek held her while she cried, fighting back his own tears.

He wished he could fix this.

* * *

Quinn wondered when Stiles had come up.

Last night, with permission from her mother and the Sheriff, she had gone to sleep in Stiles' bed, while her boyfriend took the couch. The action was merely for his father's benefit, but since he had to still be there when the Sheriff left for the station the next morning, she didn't expect to wake up to him sitting against the headboard, next to her in the bed.

She scrambled into a sitting position, giving him a light peck of a kiss on the cheek.

"Morning," she said, watching him closely. Ever since Scott… ever since that night, she'd been on edge, waiting for him to crack. He hadn't really reacted yet, aside from being quiet and the occasional burst of irrational anger at inanimate objects.

"Derek texted me," Stiles mumbled, glaring at the phone in his hand. "He told Rachel about Scott."

Quinn nodded, silent. She had a feeling they were on the cusp of something here, some kind of emotional breakthrough or breakdown, and she knew it wouldn't happen if she distracted him by talking.

"I didn't even think about telling her," he said finally. "I haven't thought about telling anyone. Rachel, my dad, Scott's mom. I wouldn't even know what to say, but it's something I should do, isn't it? They need to know." He squeezed his phone, and Quinn was almost sure she heard something crack.

"I need to call Allison, too, I guess. But what do I say, Quinn? What do I tell his ex-girlfriend? What do I tell his mom?"

Quinn ran a hand through his cropped hair, shifting closer to him.

"You don't have to tell anyone anything," she told him quietly. "That's not on you."

"If not me, then who?" he asked. "Scott was my best friend, I should be the one." He dropped the phone on the bed, looking at her with watering eyes. "He was my best friend, Quinn. What am I supposed to do without him?"

Quinn wrapped her arms around him, making quiet shushing noises as he pressed his face into her shoulder.

And if her shirt was damp when he finally pulled away, no one was going to mention it.

* * *

**AN: Okay so that was super long, and rather painful. Painful for me to write and painful for you to read, I'm sure. But there it is, the reason behind Rachel's bitch attitude.**

**But will wiping her memory come back to kick them on the nuts?**

**Only time will tell…**

**Reviews are always welcome, and I love and thank all of our reviewers, though at the moment I'm rushing to get to work, so I will not be thanking them/you individually. But know that I love you and appreciate you, okay?**

**-Jules**


	37. Chapter Thirty Five

**A/n: Kayla here again. I know a lot of you hate me for killing Scott but have no fear because it is the supernatural world so anything can happen.**

He didn't know where he was. His eyes were still closed but he knew something was different. He opened his eyes to see the Hispanic guy that was about his age sitting there with a grim expression. "Hey," he said silently.

"What happened," Scott sat up feeling a bit sore in neck.

"Well, you're in transition," the guy said. "What's your name?"

"Scott McCall, what do you mean transition?" Scott asked.

"You feel weird, right? And you feel intense hunger?" the guy said.

"Yeah, I thought that Klaus guy killed me. Who are you?" Scott asked.

"Well, he did. I'm Tyler Lockwood, I'm sorry to say, Scott McCall, but if you don't drink this blood you will be dead dead," the guy said handing Scott a vial of dark liquid. Scott took it, reluctant to drink it but he did and he felt his body react. The veins around his eyes popped out and the blood tasted better than he thought it would.

"What's going on?" Scott asked. He suddenly felt his emotions were at an intense level, and the emotion he felt right now was fear.

"You are a hybrid now, Scott, you're half vampire half werewolf and I'm truly sorry it wasn't your choice," Tyler said.

Stiles knew that Scott's mom had to be told. And that his father should be told. They both kept asking him where Scott was, it had been a week since that night and each time they asked he said he didn't know, that Scott would tell him. He hated lying to his dad. So when his dad was alone he walked to the living where his dad sat watching the news. "Dad, I need to tell you something," he started. The Sheriff looked at his son turning the TV off.

"What is it, Stiles?" he asked.

"It's about Scott, he-," Stiles started but was interrupted by the door bell ringing, Stiles suddenly felt intense rage toward whoever was at the door. He didn't care who it was he was about to tell his dad about his best friend's death and their unexpected visit is interrupting the mood. He stormed over to the door yanked it open about ready to tear the person a new asshole when he stopped dead. Standing there was his best friend, his brother. He looked perfectly fine and healthy.

"S-Scott?" Stiles said dumbfounded.

"Scott, where have you been all week," the sheriff asked as he got up to see who was at the door.

"I've been around," Scott said vaguely.

"Scott?" Stiles said again.

"Come on in, have you been to see your mom? She's worried about you," the sheriff said as Scott stepped in.

"Stiles I'll explain in a bit," Scott whispered then louder to the sheriff. "I'm gonna go home soon, I didn't mean to make her worry."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay, if you would have been missing any longer we would have sent out a search party for you," the Sheriff said.

"Scott?" Stiles said again and poked his best friend who he watched die.

"Well, I'll let you two talk, I should go check up on the station anyway," the sheriff said giving his son a strange look as he grabbed his keys and walked out the door.

"Stiles, I don't want to repeat this fifteen times, can you call Derek and them and get them to meet here or over at his house?" Scott asked.

"Scott, how are you alive," Stiles asked.

"I told you, I'll explain, but I need to tell everyone at the same time," he said. Stiles just hugged his best friend tightly to him, not sure if he was hallucinating or not but he guess he didn't care at that point.

"Sure thing, buddy," Stiles said. He called Derek but got his voicemail. The sour wolf was probably over and Rachel's so he tried Rachel she didn't answer. So he called Quinn finally got her.

"Quinn, I can't get a hold of Derek or Rachel but can you get them and the rest of the pack to come over to my house, I uh, there's something you all need to see, and I'm still trying to figure it out," Stiles said. Quinn said she'd get them and be over in as soon as she could.

About an hour of uncomfortable awkward silence later the crew arrived. Scott felt nervous, how was he going to explain to him something he doesn't fully understand yet. And what if Klaus came back for him. Tyler told him he was going to help him break the sire bond sometime soon but until then Scott was subjected to be Klaus's slave. He watched the door knob turn and fought the urge to run as he saw his friends walk into the living room and stop dead at the sight of him.

"S-scott?" Lydia said breaking the silence. But Derek walked over and slammed Scott up against the wall.

"If you are anything trying to mess with us by pretending to be Scott you'd better kiss your sorry ass good bye," he growled. Scott, now stronger than the alpha, pushed him off.

"Trust me, you don't want to be too close to me, it's stupid of me to be here actually," Scott said.  
"Well, if you are Scott, you wouldn't mind us check to make sure you're you, right?" Rachel asked.

"No, I don't," Scott said.

Rachel walked up to him. "Christo," she mutter looking into his eyes. Nothing happened. She grabbed a silver knife and cut his arm nothing happened. She then grabbed some cleaning solution, Scott saw it said Borax.

"Okay, what's borax for?" he asked confused.

"Leviathans," she said. Scott was confused as she poured a little on a cloth and touched it to his arm. Again nothing happened.

"It's him," Rachel said as she gave him a hug. Then she slapped him. "Don't do that to us again!" she said.

"Okay, Scott, I've been waiting for a whole fucking hour for your explanation. We watched you die," Stiles said.

"Okay, um, well that Klaus guy did kill me. I'm dead right now, I don't have a heartbeat," Scott said.  
"Then how are you," Quinn asked.  
"I'm a hybrid, I'm half –"

"half vampire and half werewolf," Rachel finished.  
"Yeah," Scott said nodding his head. With Rachel's help he explained the best he could what this all meant.

"That means Scott shouldn't stay with his mother," Rachel said.

"Why?" Stiles asked.

"I could kill her, I could lose control and attack her," Scott said.  
"You can stay at my place," Derek said.

"But I could easily do the same to you," Scott said.  
"Scott, where else are you going to stay?" Derek asked.

"Besides we have ways of protecting ourselves from that. You will have a bad reaction to both wolfsbane and a herb called vervain. If we drink stuff with vervain in it we can protect ourselves from compulsion and you losing control and draining us, we can give some to our parents to keep them safe too," Rachel said. Scott nodded.

"You won't go through this alone, buddy, we'll all be here for you," Stiles said hugging his best friend. Suddenly Scott had everyone hugging and he could hear their hearts beating and smell the blood running through their veins.

"Um, guys, you might want to get away from me," he said trying to wiggle free. They all took a step back quickly as he back away closing his eyes trying to get his urge under control. When he couldn't he sort of ran out the door trying to get away from the people he cared about. Stiles tried to go after him, to help calm him down but Rachel stopped him.

"Stiles, it's not a good idea to go after a young hybrid, he could really hurt you," Rachel said.

Scott ran into the woods and stopped by a tree. He hated the idea that he wanted to hurt his friends now. He sat down and hung his head.

"What's the matter, love?" a British accent asked. Scott looked up to see Klaus's sister Rebekah.

"I'm just trying to not hurt anyone," Scott said.

"That'll come in time, love, don't you worry," Rebekah said sitting beside him.

"Why did he do this to me?" Scott asked.

"Because my brother can be an ass when he wants something and right now he wants hybrids. I'm sorry he did this to you, but you'll be fine, I promise, you'll have me and Tyler to look out for you," Rebekah said putting an arm around Scott. "Let's go get something to eat," she said getting up and pulling Scott up.

"Guys, we need to be here for Scott as much as possible. Going through this change will be way different than going through the change he went through with the bite," Rachel said.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked.

"Well his emotions will be heightened, and aspects of his personality will be heightened, he's pretty much going to be a basket case for a while," Rachel said. But as far as anything else about hybrids she knew nothing. They were still a relatively new species to be honest. She didn't know much about them but she was determined to find out so they all could help Scott out.


	38. Chapter Thirty Six

**AN: Hello, my pretties. I am Jules and I am so sad by the absence of comments (::cough::yelling, scolding, anger:: cough:: ) of the last couple of chapters. Were so blinded by rage you could not properly articulate your frustrations to us? (Aside from a couple of tumblr message exchanges, of course…)**

**I’m not begging for reviews or anything, I’m not being one of those, I promise. I just enjoy hearing from you guys, and I like knowing if we’re on the right track, if you all like what we’re doing and where we’re going, things like that.**

**Because really, on my part at least, I do this for you all, and I like keeping you happy. (Or angry with me. It’s a bit of both, to be honest…)**

**This is a bit short, apologies, and took a bit long, apologies again, but I really have no excuse.**

**Aaaannnnd moving on from that…we left off with Scott being hybrid, Rachel’s memories being whammy-ed, and Klaus, the lovely Rebekah, and Tyler having descended upon Beacon Hills to most likely wreak some kind of havoc.**

**With that being said…**

**Go.**

* * *

“I love Sundays,” Stiles commented from his seat on Rachel’s couch. “Of course, I’d like it better if Scotty would stop staring at me like I’m a stack of Rachel’s pancakes.”

Scott groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry, man. You just… smell. Really. Good.” He gave a shrug, and a sheepish smile. “Everyone else smells like…wolf. Less tasty. Kind of furry,” he added, contemplative. 

Rachel found herself making a noise in protest, though she wasn’t sure why, exactly, she would be offended to smell unappetizing to a wolf-vampire. Vampwolf? Wolfpire?

“I’m not a wolf,” she said, feeling Derek’s arms tighten around her abdomen. They were sharing the recliner, though not by Rachel’s own intention. She HD been aiming for the couch, the empty space between Quinn and the armrest, but had been unceremoniously tugged onto Derek’s lap ad she’d made to pass by.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed. “But you smell different anyway. Like gunpowder and metal. You smell a little like… death. But not _dead._ ”

Rachel eyed him, bewildered, and surreptitiously gave herself a sniff. She’d had her scent described to her before, by a few different kinds of creatures, but Scott was the first to mention _death._ She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“Plus,” Scott was continuing. “Derek’s scent is all over yours, too, and not even my hunger seems to want to rebel against Alpha.”

Derek leaned his head down to sniff at her neck, and she felt him smile against her skin. He gave the tender flesh a sweeping lick, growling playfully in her ear when she squirmed.

“You smell like me,” he crowed, sounding altogether too smug. She saw Stiles make a gagging motion out of the corner of her eye, Quinn giggling beside him.

“And you didn’t even have to pee on me,” Rachel quipped in reply. 

Lydia, from her perch on the opposite chair (via Jackson’s lap), wrinkled her nose.

“Ew,” she commented. “We don’t actually do that, right?”

Derek gave her a non-committal, one-shouldered shrug in reply, and the room drifted into silence.

They were all at Rachel’s house to discuss Scott’s current… situation. Stiles and Scott had arrived just before first light, both with sarcastic commentary of Derek’s behead, once he finally made an appearance—the wolf had stayed over again, though beyond him divesting her of Dean’s stolen sweatshirt and putting one of his own on her instead, nothing more than kissing occurred. 

Stiles had explained that he’d sent out a group text for everyone to meet at her house, and that he had assumed her fathers were still gone, so it was the busy place for everyone to meet. 

Rachel had simply sighed and stepped back to let them in, extending an invite to Scott so he could cross the threshold.

(She’d accompanied the invitation with some very creative threats to his person, should he attack or drink blood anywhere in or near her house. Scott had eyed her nervously, nodding his head so fast and hard, she was surprised it didn’t fling free from his neck.) 

Quinn had been close behind, with Isaac Lahey sitting in the passenger seat.

Jackson, Danny, and Lydia followed about twenty minutes after, screeching to a stop at her curb. In the time in between, Derek had stumbled his way sleepily down her stairs, pressing a kiss to her head that did _not_ make her blush, and all but collapsing in the recliner he had apparently claimed as his.

(She had idly wondered if this claiming process had involved urine, and promptly decided to deep clean it, ASAP, just in case. You never knew with werewolves.)

“Were Erica and Boyd invited this little…soirée?” Lydia had asked, settling onto Jackson’s lap primly.

“Who?” Rachel had questioned Derek in turn.

He hadn’t given a reply, saved by the ringing of the doorbell. On the other side stood two vaguely familiar teens, and the girl of which had shoved past Rachel with a sneer.

She’d followed the two teens back to her living room, entering in time to hear Derek correcting the blonde girl on her manner.

New wolves then.

She’d given Derek a look that promised a discussion about turning people, and went to get snacks for the strange group assembled within.

Then had come the lap-pulling maneuver, Scott’s commentary on smells, and the silence that now drifts between them, heavy like the humidity in a Florida summer. 

* * *

“Do you know anything about hybrids, Rachel?” Scott asked. “I didn’t really get a lot of information from the psycho dude before I ran.”

Rachel sighed, running a hand through her hair. She shook her head. “I don’t. It’s not exactly a normal thing, even in the supernatural world. I’ve really only ever heard rumors before now.” She bit her lip and reached for her phone, lifting it from its place on the coffee table. 

“I may know someone who may be able to shed some light. It’s a long shot, but I can give her a call.”

Scott was already nodding eagerly, and Rachel was sure that if she hadn’t already had her phone in hand he would have the sad puppy eyes turned on to destroy mode. She promised she’d make the call, and slowly everyone filtered out of her house, unable to do much else about the situation except what they already had. Stiles left with Isaac taking the shotgun seat, Quinn following in her car. Jackson, Danny, and Lydia left much the way they had arrived, with a screech and a borderline disdainful goodbye. Erica and Boyd left quietly, slipping out so quickly that Rachel didn’t realize they were gone until she reentered her almost empty living room—she had started cleaning up glasses and dishes as Stiles, Isaac, and Quinn had made their exits, and had been in and out of the kitchen in the meantime.)

Derek had, of course, stayed. (Rachel wondered if he stayed because he had learned of her fathers’ perpetual absences, or if he had just missed her as much as she had missed him—not that she would admit just _how_ much she had missed the silly alpha wolf.) He hovered in the background while she showed Scott the modified basement that she and Derek had fixed up last night. 

She had put Derek to work reinforcing the door—Scott would still be able to break it, but it would take him longer than just the door would have before. While he’d done that, Rachel had made the basement livable, opening the futon and dressing it with clean sheets, and ensuring the small window along the top of the wall was completely covers, blacking it out to keep Scott save from the sun’s rays. Derek had been sent out from blood bags, which she’d stored in the mini-fridge behind the bar. 

“No sun,” Scott commented, looking around. He gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Rach.”

She shrugged. “No big.” She handed him a keying with two shining keys, one to her front door and one to the new padlock on the outside of the basement door. “This way you can hide out when the sun’s up or if you just need to get away, if you’re afraid of losing control.”

“You’d still be in danger,” Scott answered absently, dropping his backpack on the makeshift bed.

“Eh, I can take you,” she smiled at him, then nodded up to the shadow of Derek at the top of the stairs. “Besides, I don’t think the Wolfman up there will be letting me out of his sight for anything except school anyway, so we’re good.”

He laughed, nodding, and leaned in to whisper, “he is kind of stalking you.”

“I heard that,” Derek growled, sending Rachel into giggles. 

Scott quirked a quick grin, then sobered. “Is it okay if I want to be alone for a bit?”

“Yeah, of course. We’ll just be up in my room. Come on up if you need anything or if you want company.”

Scott stared. “You sure about that Rach? Should I check for a sock on the doorknob or something first?”

“Scott!” She punched his arm. “The door will be open!”

“Kinky.”

Her eyes widened and she hit him again. “Stop it! There will be no…kinkiness going on. So you can just come in. And help yourself to anything in the house.” She headed for the stairs. “I’m going to go now before you say anything else.”

She speed walked up the stairs, still flushed red in embarrassment. She grabbed Derek’s arm as she passed his “hiding” spot on the steps, tugging him to fall in step behind her. 

* * *

“Derek, stop it. I told Scott it would be safe for him to mmmph.” Derek cut her off, moving his mouth from where he had been pressing lingering kisses to her neck, to her lips, drawing the bottom one between his teeth. She let out a moan, breathy and quiet, before pulling away from his oh so very tempting and tasty lips. She opened her eyes, smirking when she realized he was practically pouting.

“Seriously, I told Scott we would behave.” 

Derek huffed. “Why in hell would you do that, anyway? You know I can’t resist.”

She arched a brow, shaking her head. “Yeah, lord knows why. Now go sit over there,” she told him, pointing across the room to her bed. He gave her a leer, and she rolled her eyes in reply. “I will be over here, making that phone call I mentioned downstairs.”

She dialed, shaking her head at him as he told her that it would be more comfortable on the bed with him, and shushing him as the line rang on the other side.

At the distracted ‘hello,’ Rachel smiled, turning away from the distracting sight of Derek stretched out and pliant on her bedspread. 

“Hey, Bonnie. It’s Rachel.”

* * *

Rachel hung up the phone, staring at it in confusion.

“Apparently,” she told Derek, who was watching her avidly, “Bonnie is already on her way here.”

“Trailing the hybrid that bit Scott?”

“No,” Rachel answered, “because I had called her and asked her to. Last week.”

She looked up to see Derek slowly rise to sit up straight, watching her carefully. She narrowed her eyes, unsure why he looked so… concerned. 

“The thing is,” she continued, “I don’t remember calling her. The last time I remember speaking with her was last year, when she needed some research done. But she swears that we had a long conversation about Klaus and hybrids, how to fight him, how to beat him. That we agreed she would come over, with some backup. She says we even talked about you. But I don’t remember.”

“Weird,” Derek commented. “Maybe she dreamed it?”

Rachel scrunched her forehead. “I guess that’s…possible. She is a witch. Maybe it was a magic thing.”

“Probably a magic thing,” he agreed. Rachel eyed him suspiciously—he was acting strange and she wasn’t sure why her potential memory loss made him act so shifty.

She was going to find out, though. There was no doubt about that. 

 


	39. Chapter Thirty Seven

**AN: Well hey there…..how are you? It's been awhile. And I mean, you don't write, don't call…**

**Okay, no, this was me, I know. I'm sorry. Life happened and things got crazy and I've moved twice and changed jobs and I'm just making excuses I'm sorry.**

**But….I got the urge to bring this back and so I'm slowly writing more. I don't currently plan on rewriting any past chapters, just continuing on from where we left off.**

**I will also be doing this solo, Kayla has decided not to continue this with me. She may decide to guest write, I've left that open and up to her.**

**So it's been a while, so please forgive me if it sucks. Since you're already forgiving me for abandoning this for so long, I hope it's easy to do.**

**Disclaimer—not mine, not any of it. I just use and play and mold to my whims.**

**So here goes, I'm sorry, enjoy?**

**Aaaand, go.**

* * *

Rachel hummed quietly to herself, some vague tune she'd heard on the radio a few days ago. The bread in the pan on the stove sizzled merrily behind her. There was already a plate full of bacon on the counter—a mountain of it, really—and an equally large helping of sausage next to it.

With one werewolf houseguest and a hoard of frequent werewolf visitors, Rachel's learned rather quickly that the more she had ready, the better.

(She's certain her fathers' will be beyond bewildered when they see her grocery bills, but that's a worry for another day.)

Her house had become the center for morning activity. Everyone seemed to show up, bags stacked in the hall, crowding into her kitchen. They'd eat whatever she (or Quinn, or Lydia, when she was in the mood to be helpful) made for breakfast, and everyone would help clean up afterwards.

It was routine now, added in to her tai chi and daily run, and one she couldn't really be upset about. It was  _nice,_  having people around, people who liked her and joked around with her, called her a friend. Sure, it got noisy and occasionally violent, and sometimes she missed the quiet mornings to herself, but she honestly wouldn't trade this for anything.

Rachel turned to take the pan off of the stove, and jumped, glaring at Scott.

"I think I need to buy you a bell," she informs him primly, adding the last of the meal to the plate sitting by the stove. She hands the pan to him, watching him bring it to the sink. "You're too quiet. One of these days you're going to sneak up on me and I'm going to accidentally shoot you."

Scott grins, pulling her into a quick hug. "That's why I never do it when you've got a gun, Rach."

Rachel laughs, pushing him away. "Grab a plate," she advises, carrying the food into the dining room. "Before we're descended upon by every werewolf in town."

Scott nods, pulling a stack of plates from the cupboard and following her into the dining room. He sets the plates on the table, grabbing on for himself and passing one to Rachel. He piles his with food, saying a mumbled hello to Quinn as she enters the room, still her pjs. The blonde had taken to spending the night more often than not, much to Derek's annoyance—the wolf attempted to spend the night most nights too, if Quinn wasn't there. All they ever did was sleep, which was frustrating for Rachel, as she had already become pretty addicted to his kisses. But aside from the occasional peck, light brushes of mouths, Derek had been withholding the smoochies.

"Any psychic intel on how many today?" Quinn asks, sitting down and yawning. "And why are we in the dining room? We're never in the dining room." Scott's attention shifts from them, to the doorway leading to the hall, and back, shoveling food in to his mouth at an alarming rate all the while. The front door was unlocked—it was the first thins Rachel did when she got up. That way, everyone can just wander in, no constant knocking or bell ringing with every new arrival. Derek liked to mention how  _unsafe_  it was of her to do, but he usually shut up about it when Rachel reminded him that if someone got in and managed to best a hunter  _and_  a room full of werewolves, then maybe they deserved it.

"Nope," Rachel answers, sitting down across from Scott and next to Quinn. "But I prepared for everyone, just in case. And I thought we could eat in here once, for a change."

All three looked up when they heard the door open, and Rachel saw Scott grin and shake his head at the heavy boot steps in the hall. Rachel knows why he's amused—if he hadn't slept here, then the alpha was sure to be the first one to arrive in the morning. Sometimes he even beat Rachel waking up, and she'd come downstairs and find him with his head in the fridge or flipping through one of her books on lore.

"We're in the dining room, Derek," Scott calls out, before the alpha can get to the kitchen.

Derek enters the room, almost suspiciously. He eyes the table, and turns to Rachel.

"Why are we in here?"

"I thought maybe we could sit down and eat today, like civilized people."

Derek grins, quick and fleeting, and bends to press the barest hint of a kiss to her lips, settling into the chair next to her, opposite Quinn. "But we're not civilized people, baby, we're  _wolves._  And we never eat in here."

"Civilized  _wolves_ , then. Besides, Bonnie is due to arrive today, and I'd like to not scare her off by poor manners," she paused, raising a brow. "And I'm not your 'baby.' I'm not your anything, except a friend."

Derek swallows a bite of food, leveling a glare at her. "And why do you think that?"

"Let's see," Rachel hums, ticking off points with her fingers. "You've never taken me out on a date—never even asked me on one. You've not given any indication that I'm your girlfriend or anything like that, and you didn't ask me if I like being called baby. Maybe I find it offensive."

"I'll admit to the first two points," he concedes, scowling at her, "and those will both be rectified soon. That last part is utter bullshit, however, and you know it."

Rachel laughs, shaking her head. "And how do you figure that, exactly?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because it turns you on every time I say it," Derek answers, smirking smugly at her.

"It does not!" Rachel can feel her cheeks heating up, and she looks down at her plate, hoping to hide her blush.

"Yes it does," Scott and Quinn say in unison, Quinn sounding amused and Scott as if he wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. "We can smell it, Rach," Quinn adds, "sorry."

Rachel groans, burying her head in her hands. "I hate werewolves."

Derek laughs, one hand finding its way to her thigh. He squeezes, light and quick. "Don't worry,  _baby_ , you smell good."

Rachel just groans again as the front door opens in the hall.

She looked up to see Noah saunter in, Brittany and Santana behind him.

"French toast, sweet!" Noah presses a kiss to Rachel's cheek, before piling a plate with food. "You're the best, Rach!"

She waves him off, laughing. "Yeah, yeah, tell it to the food jar."

Noah nods and dutifully drops some bills, crumpled from his pocket, into a vase by the kitchen door. The "jar" had been Danny's idea, born from the third or fourth breakfast. He'd handed her a $20 after the meal, for groceries.

"I figure if you're feed us," he'd said, "the least we can do is help cover the cost." Lydia had then spotted the empty vase and brought it over, dropping some of her money in too. Now everyone contributed when they were able, cutting down the use of Rachel's "food only" credit card significantly.

* * *

Stiles showed up not long after the cheerleaders, plopping down heavily next to Quinn and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. As per usual, he looked like he was about to fall asleep at the table, and, as per usual, Rachel silently worried about him driving over when he was that sleepy.

She kept her thoughts to herself though, trying to stick to her resolution to be less of a bossy know-it-all.

Erika and Boyd followed, Isaac trailing behind them, eyes searching the room for Scott. The boy practically dove for the seat next to the Beta wolf, and Rachel wondered when the two would realize they were into each other.

…but she's staying out of it. Really.

(Okay, so this keeping out of other people's business thing was harder than anticipated, but she was trying, so it counts.)

Erika and Boyd were holding hands, sweet as ever, and sat together on one chair, the blonde perched on his lap and leaning sleepily on his shoulder.

Ever the three amigos, Danny, Jackson, and Lydia come next, the boys bee-lining for the food.

The once silent dining room was suddenly a cacophony of voices, and Rachel smiled. She often wonders, during these group breakfasts, how this had become her life. From being friendless, alone and unwanted, to being surrounded and cared about by this odd group. It was amazing, and something she knew she'd always be grateful for.


	40. Chapter Thirty Eight

**An: I didn't realize under** _**after** _ **I put up that last chapter that it was short and basically nothing. Like nothing happened at all. Except breakfast. I think I was hungry when I wrote it. Oh well.**

**So originally, I was gonna write a bunch of chapter and then post them up once every couple of days or something, but I have no patience and no impulse control, so we're gonna write as we go. Which means updates will be sporadic and random, sorry….**

**Uh…Disclaimer! Right. My name is Jules and I own NOTHING. If I did, Glee would have ended** _**very** _ **differently. (I mean St. Berry married? Puke. No thanks.)**

**Also, side note, there was a point while typing this that I accidentally typed "Scoot" instead of "Scott" and I had to stop for like ten minutes to laugh at myself because god could you imagine? Scoot, the teen wolf. Fighting monsters. His name strikes fear in their hearts, and they whisper to each other to be wary of the True Alpha wolf, Scoot.**

**Yeah.**

**And go…?**

* * *

They drifted out the way they drifted in, grabbing backpacks and keys until only Derek, the residents of the house, Stiles, Quinn, Puck, and the cheerleaders remained.

He watched them all from where he sat, tucked as close to Rachel as their chairs would allow, one hand lazily stroking her thigh. She was talking animatedly to Quinn, gesturing with her hands—sounded like a hunting story, so Derek was tuning them out. Hearing the details of tiny, breakable, Rachel fighting monsters both bigger and stronger than her would only agitate both him and the Wolf. He was protective, and he knew it.

Stiles was slumped over on the table, refuting Scott's attempts to cajole him into finishing up his homework. His Beta hadn't gone to school since he came "back to life," both he and Rachel worried that he wouldn't be able to keep control, not with all the hormones and testosterone and idiocy that made up high school. (Rachel's words, of course.) He had been getting his assignments from the group, and the teachers and administrators at the school thought he was out with a bad case of mono.

Derek personally though Scott would be fine—the boy had incredible control, for a young and bitten wolf. But Scott refused, and so Derek usually spent the school day with him. They'd work on the Hale house, go running when the moon was starting to fill and their wolves were getting the days Scott wasn't up for going outside, they'd sit in the basement of Rachel's house—Scott's temporary bedroom—and go through Rachel's books on monsters, or Scott would teach Derek games on his PlayStation. Not something Derek ever thought he'd be doing, but if it helped Scott, he would. Derek's been teaching Scott about engines, as well, at first as a way to get revenge for the video games, but then it ended up being fun, not that Derek will admit that to  _anyone,_  especially not to Rachel, who had suggested the lessons in the first place. (He liked the girl, was a little crazy about her, in all honesty, but sometimes she'd just get so  _smug_  about things.)

So he and Scott had been "bonding," as Quinn would say, and Derek didn't mind. He liked getting to spend more time with his second-in-command, even if he thought the kid should be in school and not just doing homework with Rachel's help. Luckily, the girl's class notes were exhaustingly thorough, so it was almost like Scott was in those classes. The notes for the classes he shares with Stiles…not so much.

The Puckerman kid was playing intently with his phone, ignoring pretty much everyone. Derek preferred it that way. He didn't like how comfortable the punk was with Rachel—and he definitely didn't like how she never argued it or complained about it, like she does with him. The kid was always kissing her, and holding her hand, and playing with her hair. Derek had even seen the kid pick her up and twirl her around, like they were some kind of lame rom-com. She yelled whenever Derek tried to pick her up.

He doesn't like it. Not that he'll every admit that  _anyone_. They'd never let him live it down, if they knew that he was jealous of a damn high-schooler.

Scott and Rachel both stood, and Derek absolutely  _did not_  pout at the loss of contact. Really. He didn't.

The two disappeared into the kitchen with their plates, and Quinn left the room as well, drifting upstairs, presumably to change. He wondered if he could convince the blonde girl to stay at her own house tonight. She'd been at Rachel's for the past four nights, which meant he couldn't sneak into his girl's room.

He didn't have any inclination to move, stomach full and sated from Rachel's breakfast. He kept one eye on Rachel as she wandered the house, chatting with Scott and humming to herself. He needed to start thinking up a date idea, something to sweep her off her feet. She wasn't wrong, after all—they'd never actually gone out, and making out in her bedroom or his car doesn't exactly count a "date."

Problem was, he hadn't been out on a real date in years, probably not since high school. He's not even sure he knows  _how_  to date. What to do, what to say, where to take her, what to bring her when he picks her up. Especially for a girl like Rachel.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts when the ditzy blonde cheerleader who makes no sense stands up, calling out to Rachel that she's got visitors. He picks up the sounds of people ascending the steps moments before a knock sounds at the front door. Derek beats Rachel to it, Scott right behind him. He reaches for the door, only to be stopped by Rachel's hand grabbing hold of his.

"My house, Derek, I answer the door." He frowns, but concedes, backing up just far enough to give her room to squeeze her small frame between him and the door. She just shakes her head, smiling like his attempts to keep her safe is  _amusing._

She checks the peephole first, thank god—he's glad she has  _some_  consideration for her own safety, as small and relatively useless as it is. Her big smile says she knows the visitor, and she backs into him, pressing her rather gorgeous ass against him until he backs up enough to give her space to open the door.

* * *

Rachel grins, launching herself at Bonnie with a laugh.

"Bonnie, you're here!" she hugs the girl, turning to the blonde beside her. "And Caroline, hi! It's so good to see you! Bonnie didn't say you were coming."

Caroline pulls her in for a hug, grinning. "A chance to come see you? I couldn't resist."

"Besides," Bonnie adds, "I did say I was bringing back-up."

"I'm glad," Rachel replies. "It's been forever. And Caro is the best back-up a girl could ask for, so I'm not sure why I'm surprised." She pulls back, ushering the two girls in. "Did Elena come too?"

She starts closing the door, but it's stopped by a hand, pale and masculine.

"No, unfortunately, Elena has rediscovered her ever changing feelings for my brother, and the two of them are wandering around Mystic Falls being nauseatingly cute with each other." A smile, quick but devastatingly sexy. "Hopefully I'm a suitable replacement?"

Rachel laughs, throwing herself into the newcomers open arms. "More than suitable! You know I'm always happy to see you, Damon." She pulls back, eyeing him sternly. "But no killing any innocent people while you're here. And no feeding from them either. I need you to behave."

He holds one hand up, smirking. "Scout's honor."

Bonnie snorts, rolling her eyes. "You were never a Boy Scout."

"No, but I was a soldier. So…soldier's honor."

Caroline cocks her head, laughing. "Did confederate Civil War soldiers have honor?"

Rachel just shakes her head, letting them all in the house (verbally inviting, in Damon's case) and pointing them in the direction of the living room. Scott follows the trio in as Quinn comes down the stairs and goes back into the dining room, presumably to wake Stiles from his spot drooling on her table. Brittany and Santana both meet her at the door, hugging the blonde goodbye.

"We're gonna get out of here," Santana explains, "I wanna get to the good janitor's closet before Puck and his skank of the week can."

Noah, in the hall just behind them, smirks. "Not a chance, Satan." He pushed past the Cheerio's, pressing a kiss to Rachel's forehead, and bounds out the door, yelling a "Later, ladies!" over his shoulder.

Santana growls, a sound that actually alarms Rachel, and stomps past, cursing Noah in Spanish and pulling Brittany along behind her. The blonde waves at Rachel cheerfully, and Rachel closes the door behind them, shaking her head. She never realized how ridiculous they could be, back when they were slushying her on a daily basis and tormenting her every time they passed by.

She locks the door behind her—she's not expecting anyone else, unless more people came with the Mystic Falls group, and she'd rather not be interrupted while they're planning Klaus' take down. Derek is still standing behind her, like he's decided his new mission in life is to be her shadow. She ignores it. She's used to the weird behavior by now, including the slightly obsessive hovering he does whenever someone he doesn't like or trust is nearby.

Quinn was leading a sleepy into the living room, and Rachel followed them in, Derek lurking behind her, as per usual. Scott was in the chair, legs tucked underneath him, eyeing the newcomers warily. Quinn and Stiles went to his side, settling down on the floor by the chair. Derek sat in the recliner he all but claimed as his, and reached out to pull her in his lap.

Damon got to her first, tugging her down to settle between him and Caroline and the couch. He pressed her against his side, draping one arm over her shoulders, hand tracing patterns against her bicep.

"You smell different," he comments, narrowing his eyes and lifting a strand of her hair to his nose to smell it better.

Caroline giggles. "You smell like him," she adds, gesturing towards Derek. Rachel groans and hides her face in Damon's jacket as Quinn, Stiles, and Scott all start laughing.

"We say that all the time," Quinn explains, Scott nodding along.

Rachel shakes her head, sitting up straight again. "So, moving on, guys, this is Bonnie, Caroline, and Damon," she says, gesturing to the three surrounding her on the couch. "And these are my friends, Quinn, Stiles, Scott, and Derek. Scott is…" she trailed off, looking a t Scott worriedly, trying to figure out the least offensive way to phrase it.

"I'm the one Klaus killed and turned into a weird confusing hybrid thing," Scott finishes, smiling softly at Rachel. She sticks her tongue out in response, and then smiles gratefully at him.

Quinn's phone beeps, and she frowns at it. "That's my alarm for school," she says, biting her lip. "We could skip?"

"No," Rachel answers, shaking her head, "no, you guys have missed enough school. You two go, Scott and I will stay here and figure this out with them." Stiles opened his mouth, presumably to argue, but Rachel cuts him off. "No. I know you want to help, and you will, but this is all going to be talking and research, the boring stuff. You guys should go to school, make excuses for why I'm not there. We'll meet up again after school and fill you in on everything."

Stiles still looks like he's going to argue, but he's stopped by Scott laying a hand on his arm.

"Please, Stiles? Go to school. Your dad will get called if you miss another day of school, and you know it. We can't risk you getting grounded."

Stiles sighs and nods, "fine, dude, but I expect text reports of everything all day. And I'll be here right after school."

"After lacrosse," Scott corrects, frowning at him.

"Dude, no. Coach has been the worst since you've been 'sick.' Greenberg actually started crying last practice."

"Dude yes," Scott argues, "you can't skip practice. You skip practice, you're off the team."

Stiles opens his mouth, but Quinn's hand covers it. "Don't worry. We'll go to school, Stiles will go to lacrosse, and I'll go to glee. We'll come back after, and we'll make sure none of our friends that aren't in the supernatural loop don't come by."

Rachel nods, squirming out of Damon's grip to hug the blonde. "Thank you Quinn."

The two leave, and Rachel turns to Derek. "You were gonna work on your house today, right?"

Derek narrows his eyes, looking between her and Damon suspiciously. "No," he answered, sounding defensive.

Scott frowns, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, you were. You said you were going to work on the floor in the den today. The lumber guy was going to drop the wood off this morning." He checks his watch, aiming the face of it towards Derek. "In fact, isn't he supposed to show up around nine? You're cutting it pretty close."

Derek scowled at him, growling lowly.

Rachel leaned over and smacked him in the back of the head. "Stop that. Go work on your house—I certainly would rather not fall through any floors next time I'm there, so that's definitely something you should go work on. We'll be fine."

Derek turned his scowl on her, but she simply folded her arms across her chest and stared him down, one eyebrow raised, and a scowl of her own on lips. They watched each other silently for a few minutes before Derek finally sighed and stood.

"Fine," he conceded, reaching out to pull Rachel towards him. "I'll go do house stuff. Walk me out." He starts for the door, pulling her behind him.

"Was that a request or a demand?" she asks lightly, rolling her eyes at being led to her own front door.

"Both," he answered. He pulls the front door open and steps through, turning to face her. "I'll see you as soon as the floor is done," he says, the words sounding like a promise.

Rachel nods and turns to go, but is pulled against Derek's body, chest to chest.

Well, her chest to his lower chest and upper abs, due to her lower height. His very firm abs. Rachel swallows, reminding herself to focus. She looks up at him, giving him an unsure smile.

"Yes Derek?"

He anchors an arm underneath her ass and lifts her up so their faces are inches apart. He presses their lips together, and her eyes drift close, arms twining around his neck. He draws her bottom lip between his teeth and she gasps, arching up against him.

The kiss is hot and dirty, and the best and longest kiss he'd given her since Scott had moved in. She's not sure why he's suddenly back to the hot-and-heavy make-out sessions, but she's certainly not going to complain.

* * *

**AN: alright, so…I like making Derek jealous. It's like a thing.**

**It's harder than I anticipated to get back in the swing of this, but hopefully I'll get there.**

**In the meantime….endgame for Damon? I'm a heavy Delena shipper, but I want your opinions. Damon and Elena, or Damon and Bonnie?**

**Let me know!**

**Love you!**


	41. Chapter Thirty Nine

**AN: So I suck. I come back all “I’m so sorry for the disappearing act, I’m gonna write more, this is coming back,” and then I give you two chapters and vanish again. I suck so much, I’m so sorry. I’m not even gonna try to justify it with excuses.**

**Also…this whole Klaus thing is gonna get resolved very quickly here, probably in this chapter or the next. It was K’s brain child and I’m just not feeling it. Lame, I know. But hopefully I’ll resolve it in at least a kind of funny way? I have other plans, don’t worry, but the Vampire Diaries gang won’t be sticking around for very long.**

**And the focus of the fic as a whole will probably shift. Less of the extra characters, mostly because it’s exhausting trying to remember where everyone is sitting and what they’re doing. So expect more main core gang (Rach, Derek, Quinn, Stiles, Scott) adventures and less random Gleeks showing up. The rest of Der’s pack will still be there, as will Noah and Britt and Santana, but less than previously too.**

**Sorry if any of this disappoints you, and I totes understand if means you stop reading.**

**But I hope you don’t?**

**Anyways….new chapter below. Enjoy?**

**ALSO, this chapter is dedicated to my lovely tumblr friend, Ankahikoibaat, who has been endlessly patient with me, and super supportive, and has still stuck with me and this despite my very long hiatuses. All the Bonnie is for you, though probably not as epic as you’d like, I’m sorry. Love you much!**

**And…………………………go.**

* * *

 

“So do we have a game plan? Or even just the beginning of one?” Rachel asks, dropping down into the recliner. “Because, honestly? I’m completely lost here. Hybrid werewolf vampire things aren’t anything I’ve ever even contemplated existing, much less ever come across. And I’ve never met a Vampire as old as this Klaus person either, and you said on the phone that he claims to be the original vampire, and if that’s true then I’m in way over my head, and I don’t like being in over my head.”

Caroline giggles, shaking her head. “I forgot that you do that. Say a billion words a minute and over explain everything.”

“She’s getting better about it,” Scott informs her, grinning wide, “but when she gets all worked up about something, she falls back into bad habits.”

Rachel buries her face in her hands, positive she’s blushing now. Her tendency to ramble on, and quickly, was something everyone picked on her for. She knew they weren’t trying to hurt her feelings, but the teasing still embarrassed her.

“It’s not a bad habit,” Damon adds, reaching over and pulling Rachel’s hands away. “It’s kind of cute, actually. Especially when you call her out on it and gets all pink like this.”

“You guys are the worst,” Rachel declares, reaching for the notebook on the coffee table in front of her. “And this is off-topic.”

“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, Rach, you know we love you,” Bonnie smiles at her sweetly, and Rachel just laughs.

“Yeah, yeah, so you say.”

“So wait, how did you guys meet?” Scott asks, “I mean, you live across the country, right?”

Rachel groans. “No! Come on, we need to focus.”

“I think we have time to tell the story, Rach,” Bonnie says, settling down on the couch. “Klaus isn’t going anywhere, especially now that he knows Caro’s in town.”

“Why would Caroline being here matter to him?”

“Shh,” Caroline interrupts, “later. We’re telling Scott the story now.”

Rachel rolls her eyes and stands, stretching out her back. “You guys do story time; I’ll make lunch for the non-blood suckers.”

She wanders in the kitchen, smiling to herself as she hears Bonnie start, her voice soft and rolling.

“It was a year ago, during Caroline and I’s junior year…”

* * *

 

_“Why do I have to actually attend classes? Can’t I just lurk around the campus? I mean, if I wanted to be a school, I’d have stayed at home and gone to my own classes.”_

_Bonnie stopped, backtracking and peering around the corner. The odd sentence has come from a short brunette girl, wearing a ridiculously small skirt and some polka-dotted knee socks. She was standing with two men, both towering over her smaller frame. The taller one pushed a hand through his hair, dark and long, and shrugged._

_“Sorry, Ray. You wanted to help, and this is helping. Dean and I don’t exactly pass for high school students anymore.”_

_“And you have to go to class,” the shorter man says, over the girl’s protests, “because then you’ll get to know people and not just be this weird person hanging around. Also, it’s creepy for you to just ‘lurk around’. People will get suspicious.”_

_The girl frowns, glaring at them both. “Fine. But if I get slushied here too, I’m stabbing someone.”_

_“Fair enough,” the younger one shrugs, reaching into his pocket. “And, on the subject, new and easy to keep hidden from prying educators.” He hands her something that looks like a pocketknife, only bigger, and she slides it into her bra, adjusting to hide its presence._

_“Thanks, D. You always know just what to get a girl.”_

_The men say goodbye and start towards Bonnie, who ducks back around the corner and races into the bathroom down the hall. She wasn’t sure what she just witnessed, but she knew she definitely didn’t want to get caught spying._

_Besides, she wanted to call Elena. She had a feeling these three were going to be an Elena sort of problem._

_************************_

_They had a plan. Not a very good plan, but a plan. The girls were going to get close to the new fake student, while the boys tracked down the men she was with and tried to figure out what they were doing in Mystic Falls._

_Lucky for Bonnie, the girl appeared to be in her first class of the day. She was wearing another skirt, though without the knee socks today, her long brown hair pinned away from her face with a butterfly clip. Bonnie slid into the seat next to her, holding out her hand._

_“Hi. I’m Bonnie. You’re new right?”_

_She looked startled, like she wasn’t expecting anyone to actually talk to her. “Rachel,” she replies, shaking Bonnie’s hand cautiously. “And yes. It’s my first day.” She pulls her hand away quickly, tucking both hands into her lap to play with the pleats of her skirt._

_Bonnie can’t help but smile. This Rachel girl was actually a little adorable, even if this shyness was just an act._

_“Where’d you move from?”_

_“Oh, um, California.” Rachel didn’t provide any other details, and Bonnie didn’t get a chance to pry further, as their teacher chose that moment to call the class to order, running roll call._

_“And we have a new student today, class. Stand up, dear.” Ms. Hamilton gestures, and Rachel rises, clearly blushing, one hand toying with the hem of the skirt. “Say hello,” Ms. Hamilton prompts, “tell us a bit about yourself.”_

_“Hello,” Rachel dutifully says, turning to face the rest of the room. “My name is Rachel Cummings. I’m from California.” She shrugs, and Ms. Hamilton huffs._

_“That’s all you’ve got dear? No hobbies or interests, fun tidbits about yourself?”_

_“Nope,” Rachel replies, and Bonnie is almost positive the small girl is glaring at the teacher, though it’s hard to tell with the way she’s looking down towards the floor. “That’s it. May I sit back down now?”_

_Ms. Hamilton sighs. “Yes, fine, sit. We’ll move on to math.”_

_************************_

_Bonnie didn’t see Rachel again until lunch—the girl had practically run from their math class, and they didn’t share any of the following classes. She’d been in second period with Caroline, but according to the blonde’s texts, she’d been on the other side of the room, and had run out much the way she had with Bonnie. All of their third classes had been devoid of any Rachel sightings, so they were hoping she’d eat in the cafeteria so they could invite her to sit with them and really get this investigation started._

_Though, judging by her determination to avoid any interactions with other human beings, Bonnie had her doubts she’d be willing to eat in a crowded room._

_But luck was with the witch, because there Rachel was ahead of her, tucked into an alcove and whispering furiously into a sparkly pink cell phone. She feels Caroline walk up next to her and nods Rachel’s way._

_“Can you hear her?”_

_Caroline grins, cocking her head. “She’s telling them that this was a bad idea. And that she is not good at making friends, so why they thought she’d be able to do it here is beyond her. Or something like that. She’s using a lot more words, and talking really fast.” Bonnie sneaks a glance over, hiding a smile at the way Rachel’s free hand was gesturing wildly._

_“Pretend to be looking for something in your bag. When she’s done, we’ll go over and invite her to sit with us.”_

_Caroline pulls her bag around, rifling through it. “How?” she asks, quietly, “we’ve never met her. It’ll seem weird.”_

_“I introduced myself this morning in first, remember? It won’t be weird. Just two girls being nice, trying to make the new kid feel welcome.”_

_Caroline zips her bag back up, standing straight. “Showtime, then,” she says quietly, “she just hung up. Let’s go be nice.”_

_“You sure you know how to do that, Care?” Bonnie teases, nudging the blonde forward. Caroline sticks her tongue out in response, looping her arm through Bonnies as they approach Rachel._

_She’s busy putting her phone into her bag, so Bonnie and Caroline stand in front of her and wait for her look up._

_It’s not their best plan, as evidenced by the way Rachel jumped when she saw them standing there staring at her. Bonnie was sure she saw her reach for the pocket she’d stashed the knife in earlier, but in a blink the brunette’s hands were resting against her chest, as though to slow down her racing heart._

_“Hey Rachel! Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you.”_

_Rachel smiled, an uneasy stretch of her lips. “It’s alright, just wasn’t expecting you to be standing right there.” She shifts, shuffling her feet and looking very much like she wanted to run. “Is there something I can help you girls with?”_

_“No,” Bonnie answers slowly, curious at the defensive tone. It was like Rachel was expecting them to attack her or something, especially with the way she was standing there, shoulders hunched in and notebook clutched to her chest like a shield. “We just wanted to know if you’d like to sit with us at lunch.”_

_“Oh.” She looks taken aback, and Bonnie wonders why. “Um, sure. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t really want to, I understand. I mean, if you’re inviting me just because you know I’m new and don’t know anyone and you wanted to be nice but don’t really want me to dine with you, that’s fine. Totally fine. I can eat in the library or somewhere by myself, I don’t want. I appreciate the offer, of course, but you shouldn’t be obligated. I won’t hold you to anything.”_

_She said all of this very quickly and without taking a breath, though Bonnie has no idea_ how _, unless she was a vampire and didn’t actually need to breathe._

_Bonnie wasn’t getting a vampire vibe though, so she dismissed that thought and chalked it up to Rachel having excellent lung capacity._

_Caroline is grinning next to her, obviously trying not to laugh. Bonnie could understand._

_“We want to,” Bonnie assures her. “Really. Come on.” And without giving her a chance to protest, she grabs Rachel’s arm and pulls her towards the quad outside where Elena, Tyler, and Matt are probably already sitting._

_“We don’t usually eat in the cafeteria,” Bonnie tells her as they walk._

_“Or eat the cafeteria food,” Caroline chimes in. “Matt works at the Grill and can usually convince whoever is working lunch to bring us food that doesn’t suck.”_

_“Oh. That’s really nice of him.” Bonnie can feel her pausing in her steps, tugging lightly on their linked arms._

_“Don’t worry,” she reassures the girl, “there’ll be enough for you.”_

_“I just…I wouldn’t want to impose, or get anyone in trouble with their job.”_

_Caroline laughs, shaking her head and sending blonde curls flying. “Relax, its fine. There’s always enough for a few extra people. I’m Caroline, by the way,” she says as they step out into the bright sunshine. “I think we had third period together but I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.”_

_They get to their destination before Rachel can respond. Bonnie pulls her down onto the bench seat with her, making introductions as she did. Rachel gave quiet ‘hello’s to them as they went, then sat staring at the table, looking like she was wishing to be anywhere else right then._

_Mett’s cellphone buzzed on the table, and he got up, jogging off towards the parking lot with it to his ear._

_“Food,” Bonnie explains to Rachel, smiling gently at her. She’s figured out that interactions with the brunette, especially social ones, are going to need the same methods of dealing with skittish animals—patience and gentleness._

_“So,” Elena breaks the silence, staring hard at Rachel. “Where are you from?”_

_“California,” the girl answers, fidgeting in her seat under the scrutiny._

_“Why’d you move here, of all places? Did your parents get jobs here or something?”_

_“Oh, um…” she chewed her lips, and Bonnie had the feeling that she was either trying to think up a lie or remember one. “I’m actually here with my brothers. Our parents are…gone. My oldest brother just got a new job here, like you said. At a mechanics. He’s really good with cars. My other brother is applying at the college today, I think.” She stops and flushes pink, clearly realizing she’d given an overly detailed answer to a rather simple question._

_Elena rolls with it, aside from a derisive arch of one brow. “Why Mystic Falls, though? There are mechanic jobs everywhere.”_

_“And we’re not exactly a hot spot city,” Caroline adds._

_“Rachel squirms, avoiding their eyes. “I…don’t know. I honestly didn’t ask.”_

_Elena nods and then Matt returns, ceasing the pseudo-interrogation with the arrival of food._

_Rachel runs off as soon as the bell rings, and they don’t get another chance to speak for the rest of the day._

_Hopefully, Damon and Stefan had better luck following Rachel’s “brothers.”_

_************************_

_“This is where they’re living?” Caroline is the one who voices the question on all of their minds. They’re standing in front of the Mystic Motel, the cheapest and least reputable hotel in town. There are only a few cars parked in the lot, lit up by the blinking “vacancy” sign that rises above it._

_“Room 112,” Stefan confirms. “We tracked them all day, and this seems to be home base.”_

_“Maybe it’s just until they find a more permanent place?” Bonnie suggests, grimacing at the rundown building. “Nobody would voluntarily live here.”_

_“Guys, be quiet! Someone’s coming out,” Elena shushes them, gesturing to the taller of two men Bonnie had seen earlier emerging from the room. He says something to the room behind him and slams the door closed, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car in front._

_“He’s just getting food,” Stefan declares, turning away from the fading tail lights._

_“Nice car though,” Damon comments, shrugging off Caroline’s annoyed huff. “What? It is.”_

_“They’re probably evil supernatural beings come to kill Elena, and you’re complimenting their car. You’re so stupid, Damon.”_

_“How do you know they’re after me?” Elena asks._

_“Because they’re always after you,” Bonnie answers for Caroline. “It’s a safe assumption.”_

_“They are not always after me,” Elena protests._

_“You’re right,” Caroline agrees, “sometimes they’re after you’re doppelgangers.”_

_Elena pouts, turning back to the dingy motel before them. They wait there a few hours, watching as the one man returned with bags of take-out and a pie box, through the shorter taking the now empty bags to the dumpster on the far side of the lot._

_They’re about to give up on discovering anything that night when the door opens again, all three occupants stepping out into the glow of the parking lot lamps._

_“That’s definitely not the Rachel we had lunch with,” Caroline says, and Bonnie has to agree. Same, girl, but gone is the skirt and knee socks, and the polished Mary-Jane’s. This Rachel is in jeans, of all things, with heavy looking boots on her feet and her hair thrown up in a high ponytail. She’s in a tank top and leather, and Damon lets out a low whistle at the sight of her—followed by a an ‘oomph’ noise as Elena elbows him in the ribs._

_Caroline laughs. “You should have seen the skirt,” she tells him, shaking her head._

_The three move to the trunk and open it, temporarily disappearing from view. For once, Bonnie finds herself wishing she had the super-hearing her vampire friends did, but then she remembered that with that comes the blood-drinking, and she was not about that life._

_The trunk slams closed and Damon lets out a low “damn.” Bonnie has to agree. The boys are both tucking a gun into their waistbands, and Rachel, little Rachel, has a crossbow strapped to one shoulder, a quiver of extra bolts looped over the other, and a large, wicked looking knife in one hand, the blade sharp and jagged._

_“Clearly not a normal high school girl living with her two brothers,” Caroline comments._

_“Clearly,” Bonnie agrees. The three get in the car, bringing it to life with a low rumble. “We following?”_

_“Of course,” Elena says, and they do, piling into one of the Salvatore cars, a big SUV that’s rarely used except in situations like this, when they’re all investigating together as a unit, as opposed to investigating each other._

_They followed them across and out of town, headlights off—thank goodness for vampiric night vision, Bonnie supposes, though she can’t see anything—until they turn off by the woods, near where they had once imprisoned Katherine. Bonnie’s got a bad feeling about the entire affair, but she knows if she says anything she’ll be out-voted, so she stays quiet._

_The car stops and the three depart, trekking off into the trees, a duffle bag over one man’s shoulders, and flashlights in hand. Damon and Stefan get out and, after instructing the girls to stay put, race off after them. They were gone almost an hour, and Bonnie was practically falling asleep, the lull of Caroline and Elena’s quiet conversation soothing._

_When the boys returned, it was with no new information._

_“They just wandered around,” Stefan informed them, “like they were looking for something, but didn’t find it. They’re on their way back now.”_

_“Are we going to follow where they go next?” Caroline asks, “or call it a night?”_

_“Follow them,” Damon and Stefan answer in unison, and Bonnie sighs, resting her head on the cool glass of the window. It’s nearing two in the morning now, and right now she’s regretting ever mentioning that she was suspicious of anything._

_************************_

_The day was cold, colder than it had been in weeks. One of their classmates, a small girl Bonnie never really spoke to but had seen around, was declared missing by Sherriff Forbes, and none of them had anything to do with it, despite their usual participation in such matters._

_They also didn’t currently have any of their many foes and archenemies in town, so they couldn’t give Caroline’s mom any clues as to who the culprit might have been._

_Personally, Bonnie suspected Rachel and her “brothers” were involved, and she knows the others are thinking that too. It’s the inevitable conclusion—new in town, suspicious, have a trunk of weapons. But without concrete proof, they’re all a bit reluctant to confide their thoughts to the police just yet._

_Rachel is at school, looking fresh and well-rested, despite her late night. Bonnie sits next to her in first period and acts casual, complementing the girl’s knee socks. The words make her turn pink, and Bonnie tries to reconcile her with the badass wearing a crossbow and combat boots she saw last night. It’s difficult. The more she’s hung out with her, the more she likes Rachel. She’s sweet and kind and a bit awkward. Definitely doesn’t seem to be evil, but that’s something they’ve seen before._

_Plus, she’s pretty funny, once she relaxes. Bonnie discovers this towards the end of class, when Ms. Hamilton tells them to work quietly in pairs on their projects, but no talking._

_“So what are we supposed to do to work together,” Rachel had muttered under breath, “use hand signals and emphatic gesturing?”_

_They separated when the bell rang again, but Bonnie got a text from Caroline informing her that Rachel sat with her in second period, still quiet, but actually talking to her today. Still nothing personal from her, to either of them, though, which just further cemented how odd she it all was—what teenage girl doesn’t talk about herself, especially with new friends?_

_They gather at lunch, Bonnie dragging Rachel along with her when she found her wandering the hallways. Damon and Stefan are following the boys again, and Matt and Tyler are off who knows where, so it’s just the girls today._

_Rachel starts talking before Elena can pepper her with invasive questions, surprisingly._

_“I heard this morning that there’s a missing student?” She asks, eyes wide and innocent looking. It puts Bonnie immediately on edge, wondering at the way she said it. There was something about her tone…_

_“Yeah,” Elena nods, “but we didn’t really know her.”_

_“I mean, it’s scary though, isn’t it? A girl just disappearing like that? And the news this morning said there’s no leads.”_

_“Oh, no, they’ve got someone in custody,” Caroline lies, breezy and calm. “My mom’s the sheriff, and she told me this morning they’ve got the guy, so it’s all good.”_

_Rachel frowns. “They’ve caught someone?” she asks._

_“Yep!” Caroline confirms, popping the p. “All locked up.”_

_“Well, that’s a relief, I suppose,” Rachel answers absently. “Does this kind of thing happen a lot, though, around here? Girl’s going missing? Especially in the last few weeks?” She’s leaned in, now, her voice hushed, and Bonnie felt like this was the type of conversation usually held in musty dark library stacks or secluded back booths at a bar, not in the bright sunshine of a perfect fall day._

_“What, no!” Caroline protests, voice high pitched and borderline squeaky. “This doesn’t ever happen here, really. It’s just a weird, one-time thing.” She smiles in what looks like an attempt to be reassuring, but mostly looks likes she in the middle of dental surgery._

_“Really?” Rachel asks, with an air of casualness that could only be fake. “Because I looked up the town before we moved here, and there were a bunch of articles online about weird deaths and disappearances, especially in the last few years. That doesn’t really make this seem like a one off.”_

_“No,” Caroline argues, “it’s not like that. We just…have a lot of runaways, people who skip town and don’t tell anyone. Mystic Falls is one of the safest towns you could live in, really.”_

_Elena ducks down to hide her laugh behind her hair, and Bonnie glares her way._

_“Don’t worry Rachel,” she says, “you’re perfectly safe here.”_

_“Sure,” she agrees, slowly. The bells rings, cutting her off, and they separate for the day._

_************************_

_Caroline’s lie is revealed the next day, when the morning news reports that neither girl nor suspect has been found. Bonnie expects Rachel to comment on it, or call them out, but she doesn’t mention the news at all during class._

_By lunch, Bonnie is a bundle of nervous anticipation, but Rachel surprises them again and doesn’t say a thing about the missing girl._

_“I know this is going to sound quite strange, but have any of you noticed a man hanging around the school, but not a student or faculty member?” she asks instead, confusing the hell of out Bonnie. “He’d be a little older than us,” she continues, “and sort of unearthly almost, like ridiculously beautiful. He’d also hang around younger girls? Very attractive and charismatic, and extremely sexual?”_

_She looks at them expectantly, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to ask people you’d met two days ago._

_Ignoring Matt, who had begun choking on his water when Rachel said “sexual,” Elena frowns, shaking her head._

_“No,” she answers, “no one come to mind. Why?” She couldn’t mask the suspicion in her tone, and Bonnie knew Elena was thinking the same thing she was—that that was a pretty accurate description of Damon._

_So maybe they weren’t after Elena after all, for once. Instead, they were after the elder Salvatore brother, the second most hunted person in Mystic Falls._

_“Oh, no reason,” Rachel replies, sounding breezy and uninterested. “Just my type, that’s all.” She laughs, and turns the conversation to local hangouts, acting suddenly like any other teenager would, rather than the P.I. routine she was acting out a minute ago._

_************************_

_Bonnie sees Rachel after school that day, which has been unusual thus far in their acquaintanceship. She’s shooting pool when Bonnie and Caroline walk into the grill, although very badly, from what Bonnie can tell from the doorway. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because Damon is there, looking like the cat that ate the canary, pressed up against Rachel’s back to adjust her hold._

_She shared looks of exasperation with Caroline, before moving into the cool a/c. Rachel’s supposed brothers were in the corner opposite the pool tables, which Bonnie pointed out to Caroline. One was watching Damon and Rachel interact, and the other was scoping the room, beer in hand, giving off what would be a convincing vibe of casualness, if Bonnie hadn’t seen Damon do the same thing a million times before._

_They opt for a table in the middle, angled so Bonnie could watch Rachel and Caroline could keep her eyes on the “yummy brother boys.”_

_Hopefully, Caroline’s spying was getting more information than Bonnie’s was. Because all Bonnie was getting was lots of flirting—charming and suave from Damon, and awkward and shy from Rachel. It was probably the weirdest combination shed ever seen, but it seemed to be working for both of them, judging by the way were moving close every other heartbeat._

_And, despite knowing him for many years now, Bonnie found herself unsure if Damon was faking or not. He looked pretty into it, giving Rachel bedroom eyes so intense Bonnie could feel the smolder where she sat. And Rachel was his type, if history was anything to go by—petite, long brown hair, and big soulful brown eyes, just like Elena, and Katherine before her._

_There was a loud clatter noise from the corner, followed by a shout of “Ray!”_

_Bonnie looks over in time to see the shorter man bolt out the door, a gun in one hand._

_She blinks, and Rachel and her other “brother” are running out after him._

_She catches Damon’s eye, and the two of them bolted up and out the door behind them, Caroline seconds behind, one hand sending a text out to Stefan and Elena._

_She could see Rachel up ahead, and the guy a bit further. He was apparently chasing someone else, and they were headed straight for the woods._

_She lost sight of them once they hit the tree line and were swallowed by the darkness encroaching the area as dusk settled in. Damon and Caroline passed her, vampiric super speed at work, and soon she was running alone, hoping she was headed in the right direction, because she couldn’t see any of the others any more._

_She heard a gunshot and sped up, running in the direction she thought it came from. Elena and Stefan appeared behind her, slowing down to match her pace._

_“Want a ride?” Elena asks, gesturing to her. Bonnie huffs out a laugh and nods, stopping._

_“That’d be great, thanks,” she says, wrapping her arms loosely around Elena’s neck as her friend picks her up piggy-back style. “Onward, my noble steed!” She calls, laughing into the wind as Elena runs towards the others._

_They stop next to a still Damon and Caroline. Rachel is in the trees before them, alone, walking around in circles. She’s crying, judging by the loud sniffles coming her way, and Bonnie climbs off of Elena, ready to go see what was the matter. Despite their belief that she was up to know good, Bonnie found she rather liked the odd girl._

_She stopped by a hand on her arm, pulling her back into the shadows. She looks, and is surprised to see one of Rachel’s supposed brothers standing there. He leans to whisper in her ear._

_“She’s the bait. We stopped the thing from feeding earlier, so all of its focus will be on her. If it’s still around, she’ll lure it in.”_

_“Bait?” Bonnie hisses back, her whisper harsh and loud in the silence. “You’re using a teenage girl as bait? Are you insane?”_

_“She can handle herself, relax,” he answers. “Now shut up, it’s coming.”_

_Bonnie looked back at Rachel, who had stopped and covered her face with her hands, making small crying noises behind them. Out of the shadows came a man, probably the best looking man Bonnie had ever seen._

_He was tall, with short dark hair. He was well muscled too, like a comic book superhero come to life, and wearing tight clothes. He was smiling at Rachel, teeth white against the darkening forest, bending down to tell her something. Rachel nods and grabs his outstretched hand, falling into step beside him as he leads her deeper into the woods._

_“Now what?” Caroline asks quietly._

_“We follow.”_

_************************_

_Despite not knowing who these men were or their intentions, or even what exactly they were all walking into, they followed. The mysterious man led Rachel deeper into the woods, to an area Bonnie could safely say she’d never been to before._

_Rachel is backed up against a tree, the man caging her in with his arms, head bent to her cheek._

_“We have to wait until it’s about to attack,” is the whispered explanation, and Bonnie frowns. All it looks like to her is two people having a tryst in the woods.  She still wasn’t sure why they were trusting these people, especially considering they’d been suspicious of them from the moment they stepped into town. Clearly she had missed something while she was being the slow human, far behind the others._

_She turned back to the scene in front here, frowning at the man’s hand creeping up Rachel’s thigh to the hem of her skirt. The air suddenly felt heavy, thick with a vibration to it that she could taste on her tongue. It felt like magic, but sensual and rolling, sending shivers racing up her spine, like someone was lightly tracing patterns into her skin with the barest hint of fingertips. Her head grew foggy, and she started forward, towards Rachel. She was grabbed back, crushed up against Stefan’s chest, struggling to be released, to follow the source of the magic. It was heady, and addicting, and she wanted more._

_The man with Rachel began unbuttoning his pants, and the two “brothers” and Rachel all sprang into action. Rachel shot her knee up into his privates, sending him to the ground in agony. His face had distorted—it was no longer the handsome features he’d had before. Instead his mouth had become a gaping gash, full of sharp teeth, and his eyes had grown bulging and milky white. His hands had changed as well, fingers becoming elongated and pointed sharp, like talons._

_“What the hell is that thing?” Caroline screeched, moving back to get away._

_“Incubus,” came the answer, followed by gunshots. The thing went down again, but not for long. He was back up and lunging for Rachel in seconds. The small girl roundhouse kicks him, sending him sprawling to the ground again. She straddles his chest, pulling a knife from under her skirt. She stabs it in the thing’s chest, twisting it deeper and holding it there until the incubus stops twitching underneath her._

_She stands, brushing her skirt off, but leaving the knife embedded in the creature’s chest._

_“I hate being bait,” she complains, running a hand through her hair. “It tried to give me hickey. Why can’t they ever be succubi or banshees or something? I’d like to see one of you be bait for once.  And what the hell are they doing here?” She gestures at them, and Bonnie, now free from the haze the incubus’ magic had put in here, frowns. “We’re involving teenagers now?”_

_“They followed us,” the taller one explains, turning to face them. “Which, why did you follow us?”_

_Caroline shrugs, looking at Elena for direction._

_“We were suspicious,” Elena informs him. “We wanted to know what you guys were doing here. And Rachel acted weird, and had strange questions.”_

_“Told you I couldn’t blend in,” Rachel calls over. She's pouring what smells like gas over the body, and Bonnie watches with interest as she switches out the liquid for salt. “Do you have your lighter, Dean? I left mind in my purse at the Grille.”_

_The shorter of the two throws her a lighter from his pocket, watching as she ignites the body and jumps back from the flames._

_“Doesn’t explain why you thought it’s be a good idea to follow strangers into woods at sunset,” he tells them, crossing his arms over his chest._

_“We can handle ourselves,” Damon replies, posturing right back at him._

_“Because you’re vampires?” Rachel asks, and they all turn to look at her in disbelief. “What? You got all close up and very personal, Damon, did you think I wouldn’t notice that you’re a corpse?”_

_Damon frowned, though Bonnie’s pretty certain it’s more of a pout. “No one has ever realized before,” he answers grumpily, and Rachel laughs._

_“I’m just special then, I guess.”_

_“Are you going to try to kill us next?” Caroline asks, standing up straight and scowling at them with her fiercest Caroline Forbes glare._

_“You’re not the target this time, and as far as we know, you haven’t done anything that warrants it, so no,” the taller one says, and the one Rachel called Dean nods along, although begrudgingly. “I’m Sam,” he adds, “and this is my brother Dean.”_

_“Wait, so they’re actually your brothers? I thought for sure you were lying about that,” Bonnie interrupts._

_“Oh, no, they’re not,” Rachel replied. “I mean, they are brothers, but they’re not my brothers.”_

_Bonnie nods. “Oh. Well, in the name of being honest, I’m not a vampire, I’m a witch. But the good kind. Like Glinda, not the Wicked Witch of the West.”_

_“Elphaba,” Rachel says, almost absently. She blushes when she sees them staring. “In the book and much better Broadway production of Wicked the witch of the West’s name was Elphaba, and she wasn’t really wicked, she had good intentions but people were determined to only see her green skin and the less-than-ideal consequences of her well-intentioned actions and so they called her Wicked when really she was just misunderstood.”_

_“Right,” Elena says slowly, tuning back to the hunter’s. “So what was that thing’s deal?”_

_“That was an Incubus. They’re creatures who feed off of sexual energy and a person’s life force during intercourse. Keeps them young and healthy. This particular one has been traveling down the coast for the past few months, always small towns like this. It had a particular fondness for short brunette’s, which is why we brought Rachel along to play bait,” Sam answers._

_“And it dies from a stab to the chest? Not very difficult,” Damon scoffs._

_“It dies from a thrice-blessed pure silver knife soaked in holy water being stabbed directly in the heart by the intended victim,” Rachel informs him curtly. “Not as easy as you’d think.”_

_“Which is the other reason we had to bring this brat along,” Dean says, throwing an arm over Rachel’s shoulders. She sticks her tongue out in response, laughing._

_“Please, you love me. And you love having another person in the car to sing AC/DC with.”_

_The body is nothing but ash by now, and Dean and Sam stamp out the last bit of embers on the ground._

_“We should head back to town,” Stefan suggests, and they all agree, turning to walk back towards the Grille._

_Rachel slides up next to Bonnie, looping their arms together._

_“Sorry I lied to you,” she whispers, and Bonnie smiles._

_“It’s alright. I had a feeling you weren’t really evil. It was the knee-socks, I think.”_

_Rachel laughs. “It’s always the knee-socks. Hard to look anything but sweet and innocent in knee-socks.”_

* * *

 

“They hung out a few more days, and we all got to know each other without the lying, and that was that,” Bonnie finishes, taking a bite of the sandwich in her hand.

Scott nods, looking at Rachel thoughtfully. “You’ve been doing the hunting thing for a while, then.”

She nods, shrugging. “I’m good at it,” is all she replies with.

“We probably shouldn’t tell Derek you were bait for a weird sex-creature,” he adds, bumping their shoulders. “Don’t think he’d like that too much.”

She laughs. “Now I might tell him just for the fun of it.”

“Derek was the yummy werewolf from earlier that you were making out with in the doorway?” Caroline asks, leering at Rachel with a silly grin.

“We weren’t making out,” Rachel defends, “it was just a kiss. Or two.” She’s blushing again, she knows. “So what’s the deal with this Klaus guy, how are we going to figure that out?”

“Personally, I’d like to rip his head from his body,” Damon says, “but I’m supposed to be trying to be nice, so that’s out.”

“We have a plan,” Bonnie interjects, “don’t worry. There probably won’t even be any fighting.”

They finish their lunches, talking about their respective towns, what creatures they’ve seen, and the weird things that’ve happened. It was especially good for Scott, Rachel thinks, because no one was acting weird around him,  or treating him differently. Their friends, however unintentionally it may be, had been treating him like glass lately, delicately avoiding certain subjects and constantly asking him how he was feeling. She knew he hated it, hated the kid gloves everyone was using on him.

It was also good to have the two vampires there to talk him through that aspect of everything—Derek may be a walking encyclopedia of werewolfness, but he was clueless when it came to vampiric instincts and needs.

They passed the afternoon in this way, waiting for school to let out, just catching up and hanging out, peaceful and calm in a way Rachel’s days hadn’t really been in a while.

* * *

 

**AN: OHMYGOD.**

**This took me over a month. Mostly because of work but also because I suck and I was having trouble with it.**

**It’s also over 6,000 words.**

**Which, like, what??**

**Anyway. Here it is, I had no idea how to end this monstrosity of a chapter, sorry bout that.**

**Love you all muchness.**


	42. IMPORTANT NOTE

**AN:**

 

**So. Hello.**

**I have some...news, I suppose. If anyone's even still waiting for updates here.**

 

**This version of this fic is being abandoned.**

 

**I say this _version_ because I will be spending the next few weeks editing and rewriting a good majority of the fic, streamlining it and narrowing down the rather convoluted and immense plot happenings. **

**This edited/new version will be posted as a brand new fic, for a few different reasons, the main one being that this original version was written initially by multiple people, and I don't want to remove thier work and words.**

**Hopefully, the new version, most likely with a new title, will be up before months end, and hopefully with a new chapter as well.**

 

**I may may post the rewritten chapters on a schedule, or all at once when finished, I haven't decided yet.**

 

**Anyway...**

 

**thank you for the love you've given this fic, and I hope you're not too disappointed with the changes I'll be making.**

**Much love!**

 

**-Jules**

 


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